


Flowers and Thorns

by smolbiotic



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Violence, Breathplay, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies Romance, Public Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Salty, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Before Feelings, Slow Romance, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2020-10-10 08:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 114,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolbiotic/pseuds/smolbiotic
Summary: Molly Thorne moved from Earth to the Citadel to study xenosurgery. To pay for school she works part-time as a dancer at Red Nova, a seedy night club run by a former Alliance Lieutenant with a reputation for brutality and a quick temper. She's in the last semester of her program with a promising position at Huerta Memorial acting as her light at the end of the tunnel, but the situation at Red Nova worsens every day. Avinthus Flos, a mysterious turian with no clan markings and no job to speak of, only serves to add to her mounting stress with his poor attempts at getting into her good graces. With her dream job just around the corner all she wants is to study for her finals in peace, but life rarely goes the way we want it to, something she will have to learn to accept.





	1. One

There was something sweetly comforting about the strange bouquet of booze, sweat, and medi-gel that was drowned out by waves of cheap perfume in _Red Nova_, one of the Citadel’s seedier clubs. It was odd, but focusing on the scent was a quirk that helped Molly Thorne drown out the jarring pulse of club music rattling her ear drums. Somehow, the repulsive smell helped her keep her wits about her - perhaps similar to monks who denied themselves earthly pleasures and remained cold to keep their minds sharp? Or perhaps she just had a few screws loose, but regardless that was the only trick that worked to let her study while she glared at the scrolling text on her omni-tool in between dances.

She was leaning back against the sticky roundbar that surrounded the dancers’ stage in her uniform (if you could call a thin, white suit that left her best “assets” exposed a uniform), cold-shouldering every advance from every damn patron in the joint because she had work to do, damn it. Ignoring the chill that followed after the sheen of sweat she had worked up during her last set (a particularly lengthy and challenging aerial silk set), Molly knitted her brows and whispered her notes to herself as she combed through them.

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to tell you that your dancing...”

Scrunching up her face, the bumbling words fell on deaf ears, their speaker no more than static in the background of her thoughts. She had an exam in the morning, one she had been studying for during every free moment she had in the past month, one that she still felt unprepared for. One that, if she failed, meant she might be stuck dancing for the rest of her life.

“Um, hello?”

It was getting a lot harder to ignore this one. Molly scrunched her face up in concentration, reading a complex string of medical notes aloud to make her point. Nothing like hanar medical procedures to cool off a hot-blooded man.

“Ah, sorry, seems important. I just wanted to tell you I bought you a drink, so I’ll just leave it-“

She was paying enough attention now to pick up on the flanging vocals, though she still refused to look up. It wasn’t often a turian tried making moves on her, but it wasn’t the first time, either.

“I don’t drink,” she said finally, her tone clipped and dripping with contempt as her pale grey eyes squinted at her notes, “If you want a private dance book it through Valla, if you just want to do me a kindness then leave me alone to study and give me a big tip when I’m on stage. And that means credits, it’s _not_ innuendo.”

She looked up, delivering her final vicious blow with a pointed glare, or at least intending to. Instead she found herself blinking up at the tallest turian she had ever seen. And that was saying something. Factor in her whopping 5’ height and all of a sudden her confidence and shitty attitude vanished in a blink. Best watch her step. She imagined this one, despite his boy next door tone, could snap her in half as easily as he could twitch his mandibles.

The guy was ridiculously tall and broad-shouldered to boot. He was stark white from toe to long, elegant fringe, his ice-blue eyes the only colour to be found on him aside from his worn old clothes: a blue shirt and black pants. He cut an impressive figure, an intimidating one until you looked closely enough to pick up on the social cues. Her confidence began to creep back as she took more of him in. Tall and undoubtedly strong as he may be, he held himself like an awkward teen, and he looked stricken at the way she had talked to him. Boy next door indeed. The feisty little dancer had no idea a turian could ever fit that sort of trope. She sighed.

“Look, it was sweet of you, but I don’t have time or energy to spare on social calls,” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose to stem the growing headache between her eyes, “I need to study, then I need to make money, and then I need to go home. I don’t need drinks. I can’t afford drinks.

Er, sorry,” she added for posterity, offering him an apologetic smile before Valla, the stern-faced asari in charge of the girls who danced in _Red Nova_, caught her eye and jerked her chin towards the poles installed on the elevated stage contained within the roundbar. Time to get dancing again. Once more tonight, then just three months to go until she could hang up her assless suit and start her internship at Huerta Memorial. She just had to pass her exams.

-

Molly’s spirits were sky-high. Sleep-deprived as she had been, she’d somehow managed to ace her exam. Whatever pep that added to her step shone through in her dancing, too, because her tips were stacking up ever since. It had been a pretty lucrative week for her, and now to top it all off she had been booked for a private dance, one that had been paid for (tip included) in advance, and whoever booked her was a no-show. So she perched, legs crossed, atop one of the small tables and scrolled through her class notes, humming cheerfully as she did. Sure, her next dance was just ten minutes away, but she had been blessed with a rare gift: an extra fifteen minutes completely paid-for and completely free to spend as she pleased.

When she finally swiped away the screen containing her notes, she ran her fingers through her wild, waist-length auburn waves in a vain attempt to tame them before something caught her eye. An impossibly tall, snowy-white something with a long, sleek fringe.

_Ah, shit._

He was looking her way sheepishly, if the set of his shoulders could be trusted, then waved when she made eye contact.

_Please don’t come over._

He started heading her way and she felt her stomach sink, but he wound up changing course and sat at the roundbar instead. He didn’t look her way again.

_Good_, she thought to herself, refusing to acknowledge the little twinge of curiosity in her gut that demanded to know what had stifled his interest so quickly, _stay there._

“Odd bird, that one.”

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. The rough, feminine voice was Valla’s, but Valla was on the opposite side of the roundbar just seconds ago. How the hell did she move so quickly?

“Shit, Valla,” the small woman hissed, “A little warning, please. And yeah, he’s a weirdo. Probably has some weird kink that makes it hard to connect to people. I can’t imagine why he’d be so ridiculously awkward otherwise,considering his looks. I’m no xenophile, but I know what works for turian women.”

“Uh-huh,” Valla shrugged her large, muscled arms, “That or he was beat as a kid, but I think most turians are. And you’re the lucky gal that caught his eye. I’ve been keeping close watch - he stares at you. A lot.”

“Oh joy,” the dancer groaned, “I’m thrilled.”

Valla laughed a big, booming laugh and slapped Molly on the back.

“I won’t let him hurt a hair on your pretty little head if he gets too weird, my little dancing flower,” the asari didn’t seem terribly worried that this would happen, however, and she had a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “But maybe thank him for paying you to study, because he certainly didn’t seem to care about watching you dance to get his money’s worth. You play your cards right with a fool like that and you’ll get paid to study whenever he comes sniffing around. We love you here and all, but we don’t want you to drop out of school and get stuck here.”

And just like that, the old asari was slapping body glitter on Molly’s chest and telling her to loosen up for her next dance even while the revelation of _who_ had made her night shook her to her very core. Grumbling, the small woman packed away what Valla had to her so she could deal with it later, then cast her grey-eyed gaze around to peer through the din. She knew her next appointment - a weekly dance for the most unexpectedly charming elcor she had ever encountered. Thelruun booked her regularly, and she actually enjoyed his patronage. Quiet, respectful, never tried to put his hands on her, and a huge tipper. Whatever it was he saw in her, whether it had to do with her personally or he just had some strange human fetish, she didn’t care. He was a great customer for someone in her current line of work.

When she finally spotted him, she flashed him a bright smile and hopped up onto the table properly. Properly for a woman who made her bank by shaking her ass, anyways: on her knees and with her legs spread wide.

“Hey Thelruun!” she called to him as he neared, leaning her weight back to sit on her ankles, “It’s been an age and a day, hasn’t it?”

“With amusement: it has only been one week, Molly,” his voice might have been low and lifeless, but he had this brilliant, playful gleam in his eyes that always lifted Molly’s mood.

“A week without you is always an age and a day in my books, darling,” she purred, reaching a hand out to lightly stroke his cheek as he winked at her. Ah, Thelruun. The sweetest old perv on the Citadel.

Doing her very best to avoid glancing at the towering, pale figure leaning over a drink at the roundbar, Molly picked up her casual conversation with her favourite bright-eyed elcor while she ground her hips and danced on the tabletop for him. It still struck her as a little absurd, asking him about his editorial work for a major news outlet while she flipped her hair and squeezed her tits together, bouncing to the music all the while. But hey, he liked it enough to come back every week and he was actually a great conversationalist.

“Proudly: it is good to hear you are succeeding with your studies. Not many could work here and remain a model student.”

“Xenomedicine is why I left my home and family on earth to come here, Thelruun,” she replied, a cheerful fire in her eyes when the conversation switched gears to address her personal goals, “and my scholarships only cover my tuition. It was this or give up my dream, and I am no quitter.”

He sipped his drink and nodded his agreement, “With admiration: the Citadel is lucky to have you. Lustily: beautiful, hard-working and brilliant. The ideal woman.”

“Married to her work, though,” she purred her retort playfully, winking at him, “Hardly ideal. But thanks, Thelruun. It’s high praise coming from you.”

“Sincerely: I will miss you when you leave here, Molly. Your dancing and your conversation.”

There was a strict no touching rule for all of Valla’s girls, but that rule could be broken if they were the ones who initiated. Smiling tenderly, Molly stopped dancing and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on Thelruun’s cheek. She’d miss him, too.

From across the bar, piercing blue eyes met hers briefly as she slid from the table to see Thelruun off. There was something inscrutable there. Jealousy she thought at first, but it wasn’t that. Concern, perhaps? But there was an intensity there that just wasn’t lining up. The turian broke eye contact almost immediately, but what she had seen had sent a shiver through her. Somehow, she didn’t think that look was meant for her, but then what was it about?

-

“Shit.”

Molly’s good luck streak had run out. She and two of the asari girls were changing into the scandalous cloth they called a uniform, each in various stages of undress, when Valla stormed into the room cursing. Their manager _never _stormed into their changing room cursing, not unless something was seriously wrong. Leore, the new girl, nearly jumped out of her suit. She’d never seen Valla like this before.

“What is it?” Molly asked, a lump forming in her throat as she hauled a band of fabric up over her ample chest. She had a feeling she knew what was coming, and both herself and Dineen, the most senior dancer of the three, hurried into their clothes so they could help Leore with hers. The slim, purple-hued asari girl whispered a trembling thank-you to them.

“Briggs.”

Silence stretched out between all of them with that one word from Valla. Molly and Dineen both knew what that meant: the owner of _Red Nova_ was pissed about something and he was on a warpath. Briggs, who turned criminal after his dishonourable discharge from the alliance for excessive violence towards his unit and a general lack of mental stability when he didn’t get his way. He was wild and bitter, and still insisted he be called Lieutenant or LT for short, unable to let go of his rank as Second Lieutenant in the Alliance Marines.

The dancers were lucky enough that they rarely had to deal with him (with their manager being the only exception to that rule), but unlucky enough that only one thing calmed him down when he was pissed, and that one thing usually meant one of the girls was going home early with bruises and no pay. If she was lucky, that was all that would happen. Every now and again the twisted son of a bitch got a girl to dance for him to try to soothe his foul mood, which worked until his mommy issues flared. That’s when the ugly, violent side of him really showed itself. A handful of times, before Molly ever worked at _Nova_, Briggs went too far and added another skeleton to his closet.

“Who’s he asking for?”

Dineen was the first to break the silence. She was holding Leore’s skinny shoulders protectively, a determined set to her jaw. Molly knew that look: D fully intended on volunteering herself to dance for LT, but Molly wouldn’t allow it. Not again. The protective senior had volunteered herself last time, and who had to set her bones for her because she couldn’t go to a proper hospital and risk them asking questions after Briggs blew up at her? Molly did.   
  
_Never again._

“I’ll go.”

All three asari whipped around to face Molly. Leore was shocked, D was livid, and Valla just looked completely deflated while she anxiously fussed with the hem of her sleeveless black top. It was her mission in life to look out for her girls, so watching them argue over who would take a beating next was the last thing she wanted to be doing. She just hadn’t been able to calm the “Lieutenant” down, though, nor had she discouraged him from plucking away one of _Nova’s_ dancers.

“Like hell you are,” Dineen finally spat out when she got a hold of her anger, “I can take whatever LT has pent up. And what will you do if he fucks you up? What if he smashes your hands? You want to be a surgeon, you need your hands.”  
  
Molly lifted her chin to the challenge, not backing down. Her short stature took away from the visual but she didn’t care, nor did she falter: D wasn’t going to win this argument.  
  
“No,” she said firmly, “You’re always taking his shit, D. I can’t let you do it again. Besides, I have a trick up my sleeve.”  
  
Valla rubbed her speckled crest uncomfortably as Molly looked in her direction, triggering Dineen to look over as well, a question lingering on her scowling blue lips. The small human had told Valla (and only Valla) when she was hired to dance at _Nova_ that she was, in fact, a biotic. Not a strong one - she was no asari commando and couldn’t put up much of a fight - but a biotic nonetheless. Briggs didn’t know that, and she could slap him with a stasis and run for it if he tried to pull anything too severe. For someone like Dineen, he knew to take precautions. _Her_ biotics were impressive enough that he’d have his thugs on guard, even.  
  
The weary old manager finally relented and waved at Molly to head on out, much to Dineen’s frustration. Still, Valla knew exactly what the smaller human had meant by her “trick,” and she knew that meant she stood the best chance of escaping if things went too far.

In the mirror, Molly did one last check for her make-up, artfully tousled her hair, then smacked her cheeks until her smile and her “flush” looked natural before Valla led her out of the changing room and towards the LT’s office. Once there was enough of a distance between them and the other girls, the little dancer looked expectantly at her boss for some answers.  
  
Valla didn’t miss a beat.  
  
“Arms deal went south,” she supplied when they were safely in the lift that would take them to the second floor. Her expression was grim, “C-Sec knew, which means he might have a mole. Problem is, the only guys he had on this one have been around LT as long as LT has been a criminal on the Citadel. They left the Alliance to follow him. Implications are bad: either one of his most trusted guys is a traitor or C-Sec has gotten really good.”  
  
Molly swallowed the lump in her throat and tried not to doubt her decision. She couldn’t let D get herself brutalized again. She had to do this. Right?  
  
_Fuck. I’m supposed to think first in this shithole._  
  
The two women were standing outside Briggs’ door, Valla with a protective hand on the small of Molly’s back. With a pressurized _hiss_, the doors slid open to reveal Briggs pacing between two massive, jarhead-biotics-turned-thugs, licking his lips while he talked to himself. He stopped mid-step to size up his bar manager’s delivery.  
  
“The Earth girl?” he growled at Valla, watery hazel eyes raking over Molly. She offered him an empty smile, unwavering despite the violent urge to shudder.  
  
“You never bring me the Earth girl,” the LT was stomping towards Molly while he grumbled, glaring at her, “What a treat.”  
  
He didn’t sound like he was pleased with his treat. Molly didn’t so much as flinch when he came and towered over her, which made him grin. It was a predatory grin, one made all the more intimidating by the scars that peppered his short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair.  
  
“Fearless little tart,” he hissed approvingly, licking his lips again while he ran the back of a finger up her arm, making her skin crawl and her eyes burn with rebellion, “Great tits on you, too.”  
  
Thankfully he didn’t touch those. Molly could feel Valla trembling at her side, as enraged as the dancer herself felt, but neither woman dared to say anything. They were no match for the LT and his ex-marine buddies, who didn’t show any signs of leaving.  
  
_Oh, fuck._  
  
She couldn’t take on all _three_ of them with her meagre biotics. Valla seemed to sense that too, judging by the look the two women exchanged. The asari looked terrified.  
  
“Leave us,” Briggs barked at Valla, who left after a moment’s hesitation. His men followed his unspoken command when he glanced back at them, lowering assault rifles before leaning back against the wall behind the LT’s messy desk. It was too much to hope they’d be leaving too, it seemed. Molly watched them for a moment, the sight of their guns making her breath catch, then turned to face Briggs again.  
  
“They tell me you’re from Canada,” the former Lieutenant stated gruffly, lifting Molly’s chin with a meaty finger to inspect her, “Came all the way from some backwater community on the East Coast to study xenomedicine.”  
  
“That’s right,” her tone was a little more guarded and clipped than she intended. Shit.  
  
LT just laughed and grabbed a fistful of hair, his violent glare drilling holes through her neck as he pulled her head back roughly to expose it. The fluttering anxiety in her heart quickly turned to thumping. What the hell made her think she could take this guy, even for a moment? And on top of it his meathead buddies were locked in with them.  
  
“Valla likes you. Tries to protect you. The others do, too. They think you’re too good for our _Red Nova_.”  
  
She couldn’t answer. He was dragging her towards his desk by her hair, her heart now thundering as she hailed small, ineffective fists against his grasp. Perhaps not the smartest of moves, but at least he didn’t start beating her immediately; he just laughed a rough, twisted laugh and kept dragging.  
  
_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._  
  
“But if you were really too good for us, you’d be able to pay for school without shaking those nice tits of yours on my stage. You’re just like the other sluts who dance here.”  
  
The thugs that LT called friends chuckled from where they watched the scene unfold. Molly felt her heart racing at record-breaking speeds for her and took a breath to steady herself. Or attempt to steady herself, anyways. She still felt dizzy and panicked. _LT gets off on scaring women,_ she thought to herself, _which means I have to hold my head high._ Just not too high, because he also loved taking proud women down a peg. A real charmer, that one.  
  
“You’re right,” she agreed, “So why don’t I just do for you what I do best?”  
  
LT barked out another sick laugh and gestured at his desk, which Molly took as a sign to get up and start grinding. So that was what she did, and to her surprise LT actually plucked a datapad out of one of the drawers and started reading it intently. Huh. Peculiar, but it was a mercy. If his focus was off of her, it helped her feel a little better about her situation. Now if only the square-jawed thug to the right of the former Lieutenant would stop leering at her, she might even feel hopeful about her situation.  
  
While she danced, heart pounding, she took in her surroundings as best she could while LT was distracted. It was an empty office with a couple of couches in front of a wide two-way mirror that overlooked the bar to the left of the door. Opposite the entrance was his desk. The room was clean to the point of feeling clinical, which was unexpected.  
  
As patrons began to fill the bar, with Leore and another of the human girls dancing on the poles in the raised stage that the roundbar surrounded, a familiar sight caught Molly’s eyes. That turian-boy-next-door creep was looking around the joint, and she wondered if he was trying to find her. Hell, she’d take his company over LT’s right now in a heartbeat. For the briefest moment, his strangely intense gaze passed over the two-way mirror, and the auburn-haired dancer thought for a moment that he might have been looking straight at her, but that was impossible. Maybe he was just checking himself out from afar with that look on his face? Puzzling, but she didn’t have the time to unravel his peculiar behaviour.  
  
“Can’t be either one of you,” LT’s rough baritone snapped Molly out of her thoughts and her stiletto heel skidded on his desk. The look he gave her almost sent her biotics crackling over her skin thanks to an involuntary fight-or-flight response, “You’re both stupidly loyal, and just plain stupid. Plus you know full well I can and would skin you alive if you turned traitor. Valla hates my guts, but she’d never betray me. I own her and she knows it.”  
  
That much Molly knew was true. Valla had debts to pay and a sick daughter, and Briggs paid her well. She wouldn’t risk that, no matter how much she had grown to hate him since he showed her his true colours.  
  
LT’s eyes were trained on Molly again, though he was still talking to his thugs.  
  
“One of the whores, you think?” he asked without looking away, “Maybe this one - C-Sec might help with her school fees, but nah. They don’t have the budget for that shit. There’s a reason she’s wiggling her cunt around on stage. Maybe the flighty new girl? She might have some kind of deal, and it’d explain her nerves and her shitty tips.”  
  
“Those nerves,” Molly cut in, cursing herself while she did, “Are because she knows your reputation.”  
  
Why the hell had she opened her mouth? Why the hell couldn’t she hold her fucking tongue? There was no way Briggs actually thought Leore was a threat, so why did she have to leap to the girl’s defence? Why did her outrage and her sense of righteousness have to cut in while she was at the mercy of a psychopathic ex-marine and the idiots who would follow him into the bowels of hell? The _armed _idiots with biotic implants to boot. A tense silence filled the room.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

  
“Get down.”  
  
Briggs’ command was brief, and Molly knew that she had gotten too proud. It appeared as though she was about to be brought down a peg. Molly complied limply, her shoulders sagging despite the fire burning in her eyes. The owner of _Red Nova_ stood and loomed over her, grabbing her by her neck. She wheezed and started clawing at his hands, fake nails popping off.  
  
“Listen here, you fucking whore,” the watery-eyed monster snarled, bringing his face so close to hers that she could feel his sour breath licking her skin, “You’ll watch your tongue around me or I’ll turn the bones in those little hands of yours to dust.”  
  
He was squeezing her neck so hard she could practically feel the bruises blooming there. Tears sprung to her eyes and spilled over while she struggled in his grasp, her whole body trembling. Involuntarily, her biotics flashed. He grinned.  
  
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, eyes flashing dangerously as he tightened his grip. Molly’s vision blurred dramatically, “Instead you get back to work and you do your dear old Lieutenant a favour. You watch, you listen, and you tell me if one of those sluts you dance with is acting suspiciously. I can ruin your education and career without breaking a sweat, and I will if you piss me off again.”  
  
Sneering, he mashed his mouth into Molly’s with a rough, biting kiss that drew blood, then hauled her by the neck across his office and stopped to let the doors hiss open once more. He threw her out and smeared her blood across his mouth with the back of his hand while he grinned down at her before delivering a final, brutal kick to her ribs. There was a horrible cracking sound when his steel toe connected with her chest and she couldn’t help crying out. Smart that he kicked her where the fabric of her dancers’ suit would cover any mark.  
  
“Don’t forget that I own you, whore.”  
  
The doors slid closed and Molly sat there, sprawled and bleeding from her lip, her neck and ribs aching with a pain unlike any she had ever felt before. Briggs had managed to bite a large split into her bottom lip that no amount of medi-gel could prevent from scarring. And yet that was nothing compared to the thundering in her heart, the black ball of dread that had sunk into her gut and caused her to tremble violently all over. She flinched at the sound of heavy boots approaching her, but calmed a little when she recognized the short, brisk stride.   
  
_Valla._  
  
No doubt she had been lingering as close as she dared and rushed over as soon as she heard LT had retreated back inside.  
  
“Molly!”  
  
The wide-shouldered, motherly asari rushed to her girl’s side, crouching down to gently touch her fingers to her neck, eyes filled with tears.  
  
“Grab my shoulders, I’ll help you up. We need to get you cleaned up, little flower,” she said softly as she helped her dancer to her unsteady feet, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this.”  
  
Molly shook her head, or just barely anyhow. Her neck was too sore to move much.  
  
“I was lucky,” she croaked, “He couldn’t focus on beating me ‘cause he’s paranoid. Can’t think and hit at the same time, that one.”

Her weak attempt at humour didn’t land.  
  
“Wouldn’t call your current state lucky. You’re off the clock tonight.”  
  
“You know I can’t afford that.”  
  
Valla frowned, but she didn’t argue. She knew that Molly needed the wage and the tips desperately. Even living in the lower wards of the Citadel was ludicrously expensive for a girl living on her own, and she was still in school, for now.   
  
A miserable silence spread between the two women as Valla led her dancer into her office, where she sat her down and dabbed the blood off of her skin and fetched her a new uniform. She soaked Molly’s lip with medi-gel, then massaged some gently into her neck and ribs to help with the gruesome bruises. It didn’t do much about the colour or the break, but the swelling went down considerably and after a hot cup of tea her voice was almost normal again as well.  
  
After Molly was treated, Valla helped her with her hair and makeup, doing her best to hide the bruising on her neck, then begrudgingly sent her out into the club to touch base with Dineen. The senior dancer had been put in charge of the floor so the manager could stay behind, just in case things took a turn for the worse.  
  
D took one look at the was Molly was carrying herself and scowled. No amount of makeup could hide the pain she was so clearly in.  
  
“How bad?”  
  
Molly shrugged, doing her best to look casual despite the way her shoulders were shaking, “A split lip, cracked rib or two and a bruised neck,” she answered, still a little hoarse, “Medi-gel helped the swelling and makeup covered the bruises.”  
  
“Fuck him. At least he didn’t hurt your hands or anything.”  
  
_This time,_ Molly thought bitterly, but she simply nodded.  
  
“We’re putting you on the bar,” the scantily-clad asari said, raising a hand to stop her before she could argue, “You can’t dance with cracked ribs, Moll, but you’ve got a private dance first. Your turian fanboy is waiting for you at that table, but you can say no. Working the bar means less tips, so I figured I’d leave the decision to you. I wanted to tell him to stuff it, though, the way he lurks around and looks at you.”  
  
As if her evening couldn’t get worse. Bar tips instead of dancing tips, and she was forced between choosing credits she desperately needed and the company of that bumbling fool of a turian? The one with the intense looks that got under her skin?   
  
Shoulders sagging in defeat, she made her way through the crowd to him, shooting a glare at a volus who grabbed her ass along the way. She felt like her temper was about to explode. When she got to her “fanboy’s” table she made to step up there, but he held out a hand and stopped her. She got an eyeful of long, deadly talons and winced. She was currently far too aware of how much damage those things could do.  
  
The turian looked from her to his talons, then snatched his hand back and hid it under the table with the other one when he realized she was afraid of him. Shit, was she really that easy to read? At least he didn’t seem inclined to add to her beating.  
  
“Am I dancing or not?”  
  
Her voice was still hoarse. He noticed and narrowed his ice-blue gaze on her, sending a chill through her. It almost looked like he knew exactly what had happened, because his gaze danced from her neck, to her lip and down to her ribs. Just what kind of person was lingering under his bumbling exterior? Or was that all just an act? Was he picking up on her injuries because of the way she moved and talked, or because he recognized just how caked-on her makeup was tonight? How much had he watched her to pick up on all of this so easily, even with the loud music and the flashing lights in _Nova_?  
  
“Just sit. Study, if you want,” he answered, a little uncomfortable when he realized he was staring, “Just...maybe indulge a few questions, first?”  
  
“We’re not a dating service.”  
  
“I know,” his flanging tone was defensive, and something shifted in his subvocals, but for the life of her she was deaf to the meaning behind that.  
  
“And I don’t fulfill sexual fantasies. I just inspire them for credits.”  
  
Her arms were folded, her expression dark as she stared up at the two-way mirror, wondering if Briggs was still in there with her blood smeared over his filthy, sour mouth. She felt her eyes stinging and her patience turning threadbare. How was she going to make it through a night behind the bar, dealing with shitty drunk assholes?  
  
“I was just going to ask how your exam went, Molly.”

  
She snapped her gaze back to him when he said her name. It wasn’t like it was a secret - anyone who booked a dancer could learn her name, but...well, she just didn’t like it. He made her feel ill-at-ease, or maybe that was just the throbbing pain in her throat and her ribs made her mistrustful of everything in the moment.   
  
At least his tone was gentle, but that almost felt like a trap.   
  
“I aced it,” she spat back at him, “Of course I did. Why do you care? What’s your angle here?”  
  
“I...want to get to know you?” he answered, brow plates sinking a little as he looked down. He sounded sincere enough, but there was something else. A trace of guilt? He didn’t like how he avoided her eyes, “Is that so wrong?”  
  
“Depends on why,” she replied quickly, frowning, “What, you see a small, helpless girl trying to dance herself into a better future and you want to swoop in like some white knight, saving her from her _awful_ job by booking a table and not showing up or just having a conversation? Is it a hero complex?”  
  
His mandibles twitched but he said nothing, instead his jaw went a little slack and he was left speechless, “Or are you trying to lower my defences so you can charm me and get a chance to fuck your first human? Or wait, is it that because I shake my ass for credits you think I’m going to fulfill all of your weird sexual fantasies that you can’t share with polite company?”  
  
With his type, it was always one of those. The false niceties, the drive to make her feel protected and looked out for. All of that told her he was either some pathetic hero wannabe or he was an expert manipulator. She didn’t trust him and she did not want to hide that fact, especially the more she convinced herself she sensed guilt in his subtle facial expressions and the note humming in his subvocals.   
  
“None of those,” there was no mistaking the frustration in his dual-toned voice, or the way his mandible stayed flared open, revealing rows of sharp teeth. He immediately regretted his hot-tempered display, then gripped his chin tiredly, relaxing his expression, “When I first tried talking to you it was after that...hanging cloth dancing you had done. Just a few short songs but I’d never seen anything like it before. I wanted to ask you about it, but I just pissed you off. Then I didn’t know how to approach you because you seemed to think I just wanted something something rotten from you. I don’t...I don’t have a lot of experience talking to humans. You don’t pick up on our vocal cues.”

  
He shrugged, avoiding Molly’s burning gaze, and continued, “So I tried to make peace but apparently kind gestures mean something different to you. Guess I can’t blame you, working here.”  
  
Molly prickled at that last comment, but she was too tired and raw to be proud. Maybe she had misread the guy. Hell, they all could have considering there were no turians on staff to correct them. Briggs was from a military family with a history that ran back to First Contact so he refused to hire turians, though he had no problems taking their credits. Molly felt her fury cave and exhaustion take over, slumping forward to lean on the table with her elbows and place her head in her hands. Her body _hurt_, and while she still sensed this guy was holding something back, she could at least recognize that with the way she’d be acting she _could_ have misread him.  
  
“I’d...never been to a place like this until that night,” he continued, “Strict military upbringing. Combat is all I’ve known, as my family never saw art or expression as anything more than a waste of practical talent. I know this isn’t exactly a proper dance hall, but that hanging cloth thing you did...it was beautiful, really. I guess seeing it made me realize that art for the sake of art has its place too. I wanted to learn more about it...and about you, yeah. When you dance like that it’s different from everything else you do here. You’re skilled, yeah, but you really care when you’re up there. Y’know?”  
  
Prickling again, the small dancer finally really looked at this strange turian. He was talking like a regular guy, not as bumbling and shy as before, though he was pretty uncomfortable talking about the silks. Maybe he just wasn’t sure how to talk about anything that wasn’t strictly military, especially with a human woman who...well, who might get the wrong idea. One who had already misread his intentions, even. And he was right in how he read her. Molly _loved_ the silks, she was the reason they even had them here in the first place. She had been in an acrobatics school as a kid through her teenage years and always loved dancing in the air like that. It was the only time she could really let go of her worries and just focus on moving, on losing herself in a song and enjoying the moment. It was especially freeing in her current life situation.  
  
_Shit_.  
  
She was really starting to think she had misjudged this guy. There was a small voice sounding in her that didn’t want to trust him, that wanted to accuse him of saying those things because he had some other motive, something that laced him with guilt and made her suspect he was hiding something. Still...something about him was compelling her to give him a chance. For now.

  
“Molly Thorne,” she said, her tone apologetic as she held out her hand for him to shake. He stared at it for a moment before he realized what was happening, and she cursed herself for just assuming a turian would immediately recognize a human handshake. Still, he reached out and returned it soon enough, his grip surprisingly gentle despite how rough his hands were. He was very aware of his talons and the way she flinched when he reached forward, and she was grateful for how slow he was moving. He was giving her a chance to pull away.  
  
“Avinthus Flos,” he returned cheerfully enough despite the knowing look that was cutting through her and the cautious way she moved.  
  
“Well, Vinth,” Molly continued when she finally pulled her hand back, “I don’t have much time left. I’m working the bar all night tonight, so why not follow me over there and give me a chance to properly get to know you?”  
  
The way he raised his brow plates at her made her stomach twist a little. He probably deduced that she was inviting him to the bar to chat with her so his presence would deter the other patrons from lingering around her too much, but he nodded anyways. Whether it was because he genuinely wanted to talk to her or he really did have a hero complex, she didn’t know, but that was fine.  
  
After all, it couldn’t hurt, right?


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly admits she was wrong and gives Avinthus a chance.

Loathe as she was to admit it, Molly knew that she had completely misjudged Avinthus Flos. She wasn’t exactly sure when it happened, but at some point in the past two weeks he had grown on her. They spoke occasionally at _Nova_, but he often acted instead as a quiet buffer for her while she studied on her breaks, sitting nearby and people-watching so he wouldn’t disturb her. It was during one of these now-familiar encounters that she swiped away her notes for the evening and caught herself watching the snow-white turian watch the crowd, wondering what he was looking for in a sea of strangers. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, but at the same time he seemed so focused, almost as if he could hear every conversation happening around them. **  
**

_Huh_. 

“Something on your mind?”

She searched his face for the slightest hint of his mood, a challenge thanks to his limited range of expressions. The best clues were in his habits: he had a tendency to wring his hands, and sometimes he fussed with the hem of his coal-black shirts.

“Mmmm,” the sound that came from him was ponderous and purring, and she felt it thrumming through her in a way that made her avert her gaze, skin flushed. No fussing over hems tonight, it seemed, but he was determined to keep her off-balance with that damned voice of his.

_Turians and their damned voices._

Ice-blue eyes fixed on her, took in her reaction before he let go of whatever train of thought had passed through him. She was grateful for that, because every time Avinthus looked straight at her she felt as though he could read her thoughts like they were projected on a screen in front of her.

“I don’t understand you,” the answer finally came, something in the turian’s subvocals shifting and finally releasing her from her momentary captivation, “Why you’re working so hard in a place like this to go through a brutal and unforgiving program when you’re already so good at something you love. Something you could make a career out of.”

Tilting her head at him, Molly’s small fingers instinctively went to her hair to comb through her long, auburn locks, a habit of hers when she started mulling over her thoughts. _Huh._ She hadn’t expected that from a turian, even an unemployed turian who didn’t seem to have a place in the Hierarchy. After all, Molly would be a much greater benefit to society as a xenomedicine surgeon than she would as a dancer, and weren’t turians all about that sort of thing? Die for the cause and all?

After a long pause the dancer shrugged. 

“Well, it’s nice to hear you think I could make a real career from the silks,” she smiled up at him warmly, catching him watching her twirl her hair. He glanced away and she shrugged it off before continuing, “And I’d be happy enough doing that, sure, but…”

“But?”

Pale grey eyes glanced at the time on her omni. She wasn’t really sure she had the time to get into all the details. Looking over to Valla, who confirmed her doubts with a nod, Molly found herself leaping into a decision she hadn’t taken the time to consider. 

“If you have it in you to stay until we shut down, I’ll tell you. We can go somewhere after I change, if you’re up for it.”

His face hadn’t changed, but an energy rang through his subvocals that was hard to miss, almost like a quickening in his blood. A quick glance downwards revealed he was picking at the loose threads of his burgundy pants. _Nerves_. His mandibles twitched and he nodded, apparently not trusting himself to say anything aloud. 

“Good then,” Molly smiled at him again, relishing the way it gave pause to his fussing talons, then released her hair and stood to make her exit. She wondered fleetingly if she was making a bad call here, the guarded and mistrustful voice in her head calling out for attention. Avinthus was still a stranger, after all, even if they went someplace public she still felt a thrill race through her at the thought of being someplace outside of Valla’s watchful gaze with him. She was so used to being on her own on the Citadel, so used to keeping people at arm’s length, and yet...

“I’ll tell the guys to let you hang around until I pick you up.”

.

If only the second half of Molly’s shift had been as forgiving as the first. It was as if the universe was punishing her for trying to make a new friend when she still had countless responsibilities to juggle. The moment she had told Valla about Avinthus (ignoring the scathing arch of the asari’s bald, blue brow) she was dealt one shitty hand after another. Firstly, a foul-breathed batarian booked her for a dance, barely left her a tip, then dared to grab her ass as she was walking away. The bouncers got him, sure, but the moment they turned their backs on Molly some young asari who couldn’t hold her liquor opened her mouth to flirt and wound up puking on her instead. It left her red, sticky, and horrified in a way she had no words for, if only out of concern for what the poor thing had been drinking. Something with too much sugar, no doubt. 

That was on top of a wicked headache and a growing pain in her chest which seemed determined to remind her that dancing on a pole while her ribs were healing was a huge mistake. By the time she had clocked out and grabbed a shower in the changing room Molly was ready for bed, ready to leave her crap evening behind and sleep in. She didn’t have any classes the next day and the idea of cozying up at home to study was the only thing that had kept her going all night.

The silhouette of a huge, broad-shouldered turian leaning against the roundbar while the bartender swept up was the final nail in the coffin of her rotten night. 

_Right_, she thought miserably, _Vinth. _

Deep down, she knew no matter how sorely tired she was that if she bailed on the guy it would crush him and the resulting guilt would crush her. The nervous way he was wringing his three-fingered hands was proof enough of that, so she forced a weak smile when she shouldered her duffle and slunk up to him.  
  
“Rough night?”  
  
He looked her up and down, clearly startled by her appearance. Very few outside of Nova’s staff saw Molly Thorne after a shift, with her wet hair braided back from her face and not a trace of makeup covering the purple bags under her eyes. When she caught his eyes lingering on her mouth a violent flash of doubt raced through her until she realized that he was probably just noticing the angry red scar that Briggs had given her. Shrugging it off, she simply nodded and headed towards the door, pausing only to look back when she felt the heavy weight of her bag lift from her shoulder.  
  
“Er, let me?” the worried trill that rung through Avinthus’ tone immediately crushed whatever argument she was about to slap together, so she let him take her duffle and sling it across his chest (a little awkwardly, considering his cowl and long fringe) and kept walking.  
  
“Thanks, Vinth,” she said instead, yawning, “I’m exhausted.”  
  
“How about I just see you home then?” he asked, his tone equally pleased with the nickname and disappointed by his own proposal, “You have class tomorrow, don’t you? I appreciate you taking the time, but-”

Molly waved a hand to interrupt him, “No classes tomorrow,” she corrected, “I’ll spend the whole day studying, but I can spare an extra hour or two tonight.”  
  
Truth be told, no matter how exhausted and miserable she felt, a part of her really wanted to stay up a little later to spend time with him. Even if she had her guard up high and tight she was enjoying getting to know this strange man, or more aptly she was enjoying having someone to talk to who wasn’t a coworker or a classmate, someone who just wanted to know her. When she had lived on earth, Molly had an abundance of friends and a very active social life, and the isolation of life on the Citadel had been wearing on her. She didn’t have much free time to meet people outside of work or school, but the people in her xenomedicine program were too competitive to afford getting close to. Her program was a shark tank and she couldn’t trust them not to use anything they learned about her against her, something she wouldn’t put past any of them. 

There were the girls at Nova, of course, but she never wanted to spend more time in that place than she had to. This was mostly out of fear of Briggs and his thugs, who wandered about the place prowling for easy entertainment. Easy entertainment normally meant scaring the dancers, so Molly was always quick to leave when her shifts clued up. They all loved and looked out for each other, but they were all quick to leave when their shifts were done too. There wasn’t much time for small talk. 

So here she was, strolling through the quiet wards with Avinthus Flos, a strange turian that had taken a liking to her thanks to his fascination with the acrobatics she had a knack for. Perhaps she was just eager to spend time with him because she was starved for companionship, but at the very least the prospect of making a real friend on this accursed station was chasing away her foul mood. Besides, a part of her that she was still too stubborn to listen to was reminding her that Vinth hadn’t actually done anything terribly suspect. All of her doubts around him came down to the fact that she judged him based on what she expected of a typical Nova customer and the fact that she wasn’t particularly adept at reading turians.   
  
“You sure?”  
  
Molly snapped out of her thoughts and looked up, blinking hard. Vinth was standing in front of the exit, buffed talons kneading her duffle while he stared hard at her with ice-blue eyes. The small dancer simply smiled up at him and punched his arm playfully before charging out of the club, softly enough to avoid hurting herself on his plates. Some of his tension eased away with that simple gesture, at least.  
  
“Not really, no,” she teased with a wicked grin, ”but I’ve answered so many of your questions now that it’s about time you answer some of mine.”  
  
The bright chuckle that rumbled in his chest made the hair on Molly’s neck stand on end, so she made a point not to look back at him, fearing that he might read her a little too easily. Some of the sounds he made resonated with her too well, something she was not very eager to unpack or reveal to him, though if he turned that discerning gaze of his on her she might not be able to keep that to herself. 

  
“Hmm. I guess that’s only fair. Can I at least ask where we’re going?”

“There’s this hole in the wall pub near my apartment that’s levo/dextro-ish and has these really plush booths,” Molly’s mood was improving with every step that carried her away from _Red Nova_, even if she had to take longer strides to keep up with her turian companion, “I could use a cushy seat right about now, and the old guy who runs the place never charges me for tea, even if it’s all I drink. Er, I’m not sure what the dextro options are like though. There’s a really heavy emphasis on the _ish_ of levo/dextro-ish.”

“Hey, as long as the beer is cold I won’t complain,” he turned to look down at her and slowed his steps so quickly he almost stopped in his tracks altogether, “Er, sorry, I’ll slow down. I forgot how small you are-”

“Watch yourself, snowball,” the dancer cut him off, narrowing her gaze into a challenging glare, “I’m a little shorter than average, sure, but I am _not_ small.”

She hated the way his laughter seemed to echo and flutter in her chest, so she donned a haughty air and raised her chin indignantly. That only seemed to knock his subvocals up an octave while he laughed, which made her bury her face in her hands and release an agitated groan. Thankfully he seemed to think her frustration was because of his teasing, not because she hated the way his voice moved through her like liquid gold. 

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he trilled, “But you have to admit that by comparison…”

“That by comparison you’re freakishly tall, even for a turian?”

Another chuckle, “Not freakishly, just above average. It’s pretty useful, too. There’s always a great vantage point from up here.”

The way he looked down at her, bright-eyed with his mandibles half-cocked, she could have sworn he was smirking. Unfortunately all of her lessons in reading turian body language for proper bedside manner revolved around delivering bad news and delicately navigating fatal injuries or terminal illness. She never learned to recognize a smirk, but she was convinced that was what she was looking at.

“Stuff it, snowball,” she sniffed, “And be careful where you’re looking with that _vantage point _of yours or I’ll get the wrong idea about your intentions.”

She watched his eyes roam away from hers and trace down towards the generous curve of her breasts peeking out of the v-neck of her loose, lilac tunic. He just shrugged and looked ahead once more, completely disinterested. 

“No worries there, Thorne,” he sounded far too amused, “Turians don’t much care for those flesh sacks you humans seem so fond of.”

Shuddering at the hideous implication that her breasts were just empty sacks of flesh, Molly groaned, “Be still my heart. I’ve found the most charming turian on the Citadel. I can feel it in my _flesh sacks_.”

“They feel? Disgusting.”

“Wow. I’m so happy I decided to stay up late to spend time with you instead of taking advantage of a day where I can get a little extra sleep.”

“Er.”

Right on the mark. The moment Vinth wondered if he had taken his joke too far he was wringing his hands again, whirring apologetically. _That_ was a tone she knew in turian subvocals, if only because of how many times she had heard her classmates grovel for a professor’s forgiveness after butchering a surgical cadaver. 

“Come on snowball,” she punched his muscular arm again, winking so he’d catch on that she was just trying to meals him squirm, “We’re here.”

Avinthus looked up at the door she had stopped in front of. A stuttering pneumatic hiss from a failing mechanism was the first thing to greet every patron, and judging by the way he squinted his pale eyes the turian’s first impression was a poor one. He studied the door that was struggling to slide open for them with its jarring sounds, the handle that was bolted on so haphazardly it was a wonder it was still in place, and the buzzing fluorescent sign overhead that read _Len’s_. A skeptic’s trill sounded within Vinth’s carapace but Molly shrugged off his reaction and moved to push the door open, gasping at the lance of pain that sparked through her chest when she leaned her weight in. 

“You okay?”

His confusion was apparent and replaced his distaste almost immediately. Sure the door was a little heavy but Molly was hardly frail and he knew that very well from having seen her hold her entire weight up by her hands while she danced on a pole. A door shouldn’t be able to stop her. She waved him off, not wanting to get into any sort of explanation as to why she was nursing some cracked ribs. 

“I sprained something at work,” her tone was dismissive but not convincing enough since it made him narrow that ice-blue gaze of his on her. She felt him staring straight through her lie and looked away guiltily; she had always been a decent liar, but apparently not enough of one to fool Avinthus Flos and his sharp senses. 

“Uh-huh,” it was clear he wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t push. Instead he got the door and held it open for her, that discerning gaze following after her, seeking the truth the way a hunting dog follows the scent of its game. 

“Really, Vinth,” she reassured him, “I’m fine.”

“Right,” he conceded, voice whirring with soft tones that she felt sure were meant to comfort her, “But if you’re ever not…”

A ping came up on her omni shortly after he pulled the door closed again, his name and contact card flashing on the screen and causing the dancer to fall still. Wordlessly, she saved the info and peered up at her new friend, her grey eyes wide and soft. Her heart was fluttering warmly, a pleasant feeling she hadn’t known in...well, since she had left earth years ago. 

“Look, I’ve heard the rumours about _Nova_ and its owner. It’s no secret how he runs that place, Moll,” the nickname sounded uncertain on his tongue as he tested it, but he stopped faltering when she touched the rough hide of his forearm, reassuring him with the shock of an unexpected touch and the gratitude in her expression. 

She couldn’t help herself. She was so worried about letting anyone see her weakness for so long that she forgot how good it felt to have someone in her corner. At school she had to stay strong to stay on top of her classmates for every opportunity presented to them, and Nova was a den of criminals and monsters. There was always Valla, of course, and Dineen, but when they got too close Briggs’ thugs always intervened. Violently. They weren’t safe lingering around that place before or after their shifts.

Vinth was the first to see straight through her lies to the frailty she had been guarding so carefully for years, and instead of exploiting it he was offering to help her. If she could rely on him… well, that thought was something that simultaneously unearthed and burned away the loneliness she had been harbouring for years. She knew she was rushing into the comfort of his offer, his friendship, but she didn’t care. She had denied herself long enough, and now she just wanted a friend.

Vinth looked down to where Molly’s hand rested on his arm, her fingers small and frail in comparison to his size and build. It shifted his subvocals to something indecipherable, and for a moment they lingered in the shadowed doorway, her eyes held captive by the intensity of his icy stare. 

“I’m, ah, between jobs,” he finally spoke up, watching with keen interest as she skirted her soft touch down his arm to clasp his large hand in hers, “And I’ve got an impressive military record. If you need anything-”

“You’ll put yourself on Briggs’ radar to spare me another scar just to end up bleeding out on the dance floor days later?”

Her smirk was hollow and lifeless as she wrapped both of her small hands around his large palm, kneading the tough skin with her thumbs as she sighed, “It wouldn’t be worth it. But I appreciate it all the same. I really do, Vinth. It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend I could rely on.”

_If I can rely on you. _

He opened his mouth as if to speak, intensity burning in his eyes while his mandibles twitched, but some thought she could never know silenced him. He kept his mouth shut and sighed, shoulders sagging. Her words had come out far more bitter than she intended or felt, but it was too late to take them back, and things left unsaid hung heavy in the air between them. 

“It’s fine, snowball,” she did her best to reassure him as she pulled him through the dark hallway by his hand, “I’ve only got a couple of months left before I start at Huerta Memorial.”

A protective hum sounded through the darkness behind her as she tugged him into the low, yellow light of _Len’s_, a dingy little pub with a small bar and just a few plush, round booths. The comfortable seats she had praised earlier were wrapped around circular tables, with wild green plants hanging overhead and nik-naks cluttering every inch of free space in the joint. Len was behind the bar cleaning glasses when he spotted them come in, and when he looked up he beamed at Molly. He was dressed in worn old clothes, his mustard-yellow shirt peeking through holes in his knitted navy cardigan. 

“Hey Len,” she greeted him warmly, finally releasing Vinth’s hand so she could go and pry one of Len’s hands away from his work, planting a gentle kiss on his gnarled old knuckles, “I brought a friend. Would you mind dusting off the dextro?”

“You’ve got it, little duck,” came the gravelly, affectionate response as the old man looked up, and up, and up again until his watery brown eyes finally landed on Vinth’s face. He let out a low whistle, impressed (but mostly amused) by the turian’s height as he hunched down to avoid hooking his sleek fringe in any of the plants hanging in pots from the low ceiling. 

“Welcome, ah-”

“Avinthus Flos,” the pale turian filled in, reaching out a massive hand to shake Len’s.

“Welcome, Avinthus Flos,” the gent chuckled before pulling away and stooping to open the cooler, running a hand through wisps of thin, white hair, “All I’ve got worth drinking is Sphaera Frigus.”

“Ah yes, brewed in the furthest reaches of the coldest planet of turian space, guaranteed to refresh even the most battle-worn turian soldier,” Vinth tapped a buffed talon against the bar top, “Their ads are shit but it’s good beer. That’s great, Len.”

The old barkeep cracked open a bottle and set it down once he was standing at the bar again, then winked at Molly when he clicked the kettle on. 

“Tea will be ready soon, love,” he informed her before nodding at the speakers hiding between the unchecked hanging plants, “Requests?”

They both laughed, leaving a very confused turian looking between the two of them as he stooped low to avoid hitting his head off of low-hanging clay pots. 

“Len only has one playlist,” Molly explained, grabbing his hand again and pulling him towards the corner booth so they could talk out of sight of the bar, “All old Earth classics. Real jazz, the stuff from a couple centuries ago. From a time before humanity had even reached our moon.”

Avinthus’ eyes widened inquisitively at the thought and Len called out after them as they slid in an old, plush booth, “From a time when the stars were little more than the lights that shone down on our dreams.”

Ah yes, Len, ever the romantic. 

Neither one of them had a chance to respond before the volume crept up from the speakers, filling the room with a bright bop punctuated by wild drums and purring vocals. Vinth finally released himself from Molly’s duffle while the music picked up. He left it at the edge of the booth before scooting in close enough for them to talk. 

Molly watched him for a moment as he slipped the slim neck of the beer bottle between his rigid lips and sharp teeth, tilting his head back to take a swig. Despite the limited range of turian facial expressions it was impossible to miss the fascination that gleamed in his eyes and had his mandibles flicking open every time the music went off the beaten path. 

_Right_, Molly noted with amusement, _turian_. 

The uninhibited improvisations of jazz, the revelry of charging outside the realm of strict musical structure, it was probably something completely foreign to her new friend. He didn’t seem to have a lot of experience with art for art’s sake, so this was likely just as far outside of his scope as her silks were. 

“This is music?” he interrupted her thoughts, a thrill buzzing in his subvocals, “There’s no...where’s the structure?”

Molly chuckled and pulled her braid apart, combing her fingers through her damp hair to encourage it to dry, “You ever listen to anything that wasn’t an anthem?”

“Er.”

“These guys _knew_ the structure and the rules,” she continued without waiting for a proper answer, eyes lighting up, “Well enough to know how to shape their raw expressions in a way that was informed and unrestrained all at once. Jazz is alive, or _was _if you ask Len. There’s new, evolved stuff out there but he won’t have it.”

“Because it doesn’t have the same soul,” Len interrupted them when he set down a tray with a large periwinkle teapot, packets of cream and sugar, and a white cup painted with flowers, “It’s not bad, just not for this old fool.”

The lovely scent of bergamot curled out of the teapot in ribbons of sweet steam and Molly grinned up at the barkeep, “Thanks Len.”

“Anything for you, little lady Thorne,” he winked at Vinth before hobbling away, back behind the bar and out of sight. Vinth was leaning over the teapot, plated nose scrunching as he pulled in the richly perfumed steam. Molly arched a brow at him and tilted her hair. 

“Pretty bold of you. No levo allergies then, I take it? Or just tempting fate?”

He shook his head before pulling back, drumming his talons along with the rhythm bouncing from the speakers, “I checked before I left Palaven. Seemed like a good idea.”

“It was. How many rounds have I shadowed where the doctors here were dealing with levo/dextro reactions?” she tapped her chin thoughtfully and shrugged, “Too many to count. It happens, living in close quarters on the Citadel. You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about it as much.”

“What about you?” 

Molly paused for a moment, wondering at the curious expression her friend was wearing, “I’m also fortunate. No severe dextro allergies. But I’m not going to try to steal your beer if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He chuckled and took another long pull while Molly set about making her tea, filling her cup with earl grey then adding a generous splash of cream and sugar.

“Smells good,” Vinth commented, and she noticed his nose was scrunching and pulling at steam again. She grinned and slid the cup to him, her amusement clear as day. 

“Did you want to try it?”

“Er,” his response was eloquent as always, “Well, yes, but I have no idea how to use that tiny cup...I’d just make a mess.”

The subtle drop in his subvocals reminded Molly of a whining pup, which made her chuckle. Her eyes were crinkling from the force of her smile when she slid her cup up until it was just below Vinth’s face. He peered down at it, mandibles flicking. 

“You just want to taste it, yeah? Just use this.”

“Uhhh,” he pulled back and eyed the spoon she balanced on a fingertip before him, the drumming of his talons now more anxious than rhythmic, “Are you sure?”

Odd, to be nervous over a sip of tea, but she assumed it had more to do with him having spent little time around humans and human utensils than anything else. She nodded and handed him the spoon, politely averting her gaze while he filled it with tea then slowly tipped it into his mouth. He did this a second, then a third time. 

“Good, huh?” she asked when she set her cup down again. 

“Not as good as it smells, but yeah.”

“Too rich?” she chuckled and traced her thumb over the lip of the cup idly. She liked her tea sweet and creamy. 

“Mmm, a little.”

“So.”

Molly rested her chin in her hands and peered up curiously at her large turian companion, who looked back at her just as curiously. He was waiting for her to continue. 

“So.”

“Well, you didn’t come to the Citadel just to sip human tea, right?” she turned the cup around on the table, “So why? I can’t imagine why you’d leave your supposedly impressive military background on Palaven to be jobless on the Citadel. Hanging out at _Nova_ must feel pretty bleak with your background. _Supposed _background.”

She let that accusation twist through the space between them like bitter smoke, arching a brow at her new friend. 

Avinthus’ subvocals stopped and switched to something more energetic, more difficult to place. His posture hadn’t changed, but she knew she had struck a nerve. She didn’t know what that sound was saying exactly, but it resonated with her, made her feel alarmed. Curious. Was that how he was feeling?

“Would you believe I’m having, mmm, a crisis of identity? That I don’t know what I want?”

“Good turian like you? You want what’s best for your people on principle, right? So no. I don’t believe it.”

He drummed his talons nervously again, “If I said I don’t feel up to talking about it?”

He seemed to want to, though. Molly didn’t know how she knew, but she did, or at least felt confident that she did. 

“You know a hell of a lot about me, Vinth,” she grumbled, “And I’ve agreed to tell you more. Did it occur to you that I might want to get to know you as well?”

He looked away from her challenging gaze, shame-faced, or at least she assumed so by the way his plates shifted downwards. 

“I just...can’t talk about work. Not right now. I fucked up bad, Moll.”

She stared hard at him for a moment, rolling his words around her mind the way one might roll wine around their tongue, testing the sincerity. 

“I won’t push, then,” she gave in, deciding to believe him, then sipped her tea and made a decision.

“I came to the Citadel when I was a kid.”

Her announcement startled Vinth and he stilled his drumming talons to pay attention, pale gaze bright with curiosity.

“And I almost died. But, ah, I guess I should start a little earlier than that,” Molly fussed with her hair a little as she pondered over where she should start, until eventually she nodded to herself and continued, “I grew up in a little town nestled in the cliffs by the ocean back on Earth. A small town on an island in Eastern Canada. We didn’t have much, and really the freak school was the only unique quality our town had compared to other rural communities. 

“Freak school is what we called the school where I learned acrobatics. It’s an affectionate nickname. The woman who ran it was actually a part of Cirque du Soleil, the oldest staple in circus culture back home. Cirque is the pinnacle of acrobatic arts, and she was a big deal during her time. When she retired she just wanted to live somewhere quiet, so she came to our island and started a school for kids. It was just supposed to be a fun school for us, but there were enough talented kids that she started bringing us to competitions. 

“When I was fourteen we won enough competitions that we were invited to come represent humanity for an expo here on the Citadel. None of us ever expected we would end up here, so when we got the news we were thrilled. Turns out we were just a big PR stunt for humanity.”

She wrinkled her nose at the memory, recalling the way the human ambassadors belittled them to make a good impression. They were from such an isolated place that people assumed they were just hicks, so it was all the more impressive when they climbed their silks and flew from their trapezes like birds taking wing. After all, with leaders like Mia Ripley (a Cirque veteran), humanity could flourish anywhere they chose to live in space. That was the shallow and weak take-away of their performance , that humanity’s leaders could shape the galaxy for the better and uplift even the most rugged and uncultured communities. 

“Even with all the bullshit politics, though, we had a blast. I even dreamed of opening my own circus here on the Citadel. Briefly. On our way back to our hotel after the expo the cab I was in got flattened by an asari trying to run from C-sec. She had been smuggling drugs and was speeding to get away. One minute I was laughing with my friends, the next I was trapped in a car that was hanging out the side of an office building with a huge piece of glass wedged in my lung.”

Avoiding the snowball’s worried expression, Molly fussed with the long sleeves of her tunic, revealing glimpses of her tattoos. _That _pulled Vinth out of the story for a moment, but she charged on and ignored his curiosity. 

“I was saved by a salarian doctor. I remember feeling terrified because how could an alien know what to do to save me? Except he was so calm and he seemed to understand what I was thinking because he told me just how many humans he’d treated. He did everything with practiced hands and he explained it all step-by-step so I’d understand it. Soon enough the fear melted away and just like that I forgot about bringing a human circus to the Citadel.

“I picked his brains so much during recovery, too, that he started visiting me and sharing some of the work he was doing, some of the research. I was completely blown away by...well, all of it. I had always been able to evoke feelings from people through performance, but he had made me feel safe, something I could never do by dancing, so I had a new dream that was only fuelled by all of his visits and his vast knowledge. I wanted to make people feel safe the way he made me feel safe, I wanted to know all the things he knew, so I asked him what I had to do to be a doctor like him, then when I got back home I recovered and did it.”

Silence stretched between them when Molly went back to her tea, letting the heat and the sweet flavour soothe her dry throat. Avinthus was looking at her, his thoughts indiscernible once more, though it didn’t bother her. This quiet was a comfortable one, with a softer song from the speakers overhead filling the space between them. 

“That’s quite the story,” he finally said, his tone soft, “And pretty impressive.”

“Tell me about it. It seems unbelievable, huh?” she chuckled, still a little raw with the vulnerability that followed sharing so much of herself with someone new. It had painted her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, “The circus freak turned doctor who shakes her ass to pay the bills? I’m surprised anyone at Huerta was willing to give me a chance.”

“I imagine you interview well,” his turian mouth couldn’t grin like she could, but his tone of voice said it all. 

_Flatterer. _

“One of the asari doctors remembered me. Dr. Farrhe, the one who saved me, had been their lover. I think they just wanted to give me a chance.”

“No way,” he waved away her words, “There’s no chance they’d risk their reputation to hire you based on sentimentality, no matter what kind of impression you left on their lover.”

“Hmmm,” Molly hummed over her cup, pouring out some more tea, “So you’re saying I’m just that good, are you?”

“Of course.”

It was Molly’s turn to be disarmed. He was looking straight at her, no trace of his bumbling discomfort or his uncertainty to be found. Once more she felt as though he was staring straight through to the truth of what she was thinking and who she was, as though her whole self was laid bare and he could see it all. She had to break away from it, from the way it made her stomach flip and her nerves fray. Ironically enough, Molly hated feeling exposed. 

“So then,” she fiddled with her cup, lowering her gaze, “Tell me about Palaven.”

The intensity of his gaze broke away from her as he drifted back through his memories, searching for something to talk about. 

“I don’t have any stories worth telling. Not like yours,” he shrugged, an apology ringing through his tone, “Which may sound like a cop-out, but...well, my parents taught me how to fire a rifle when I was a kid, taught me how to keep in line. Then I just followed the path that my family set before me. We’re old military. More than a few names from the Flos bloodlines have been generals, spectres, you name it.”

“And what did you do for fun?”

“Uh...I learned how to fire a pistol?”

“For _fun_.”

“Mmmm, shotguns are actually pretty fun, too.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I prefer dutiful.”

She arched a brow but didn’t voice her thoughts. _Unemployed yet dutiful. There’s definitely a missing piece here, one that will make sense of this overgrown snowball when it clicks in place. _

Momentarily, she entertained the idea of organized crime, but...nah. Somehow that just seemed terribly ill-suited to her mystery turian. 

They stayed in that booth far longer than either one of them intended. They exchanged stories from their childhoods or from past jobs, filling the gaps between stories with idle chat. It took a while to coax it out of him but Molly did eventually manage to hear a bit about Vinth’s time as a soldier. Mostly those stories had to do with tough survival situations, rationing, impressive killshots...not a whole lot of insight into who he was outside of the military. She had a sneaking suspicion he never really gave himself the chance to figure that out for himself, given his background. Maybe he left work or fucked up because of some identity crisis after all?

They talked their way through countless pots of tea and all the Sphaera Frigus that Len had on hand. Eventually the bags under Molly’s eyes deepened until they were nearly bruises, and even Vinth’s spartan-straight posture began to sag. Neither one of them seemed willing to be the first to break the spell, though, to call it a night and head home. It wasn’t until the small woman found herself fading in and out of consciousness that it occurred to her she had stayed out too late. Even then, she didn’t move. 

Long, pointed fingers wrapped firmly around Molly’s arm, jostling her lightly. 

“Moll?”

“_Mmmmrrrrnnnnn_.”

“Hey, Moll.”

She buried her face into the hot, tough nook she had curled up into, hiding from the gentle light that was trying to poke through and interrupt her sleep. When the hands squeezed her again she tried to bat them away, her efforts amusingly pathetic. 

“_Spirits_! Wake up,”

The jostling was no longer gentle and sleep was no longer within reach. Groaning, the small woman moved curtains of auburn waves away from her eyes and pushed herself up from where she was lying.

_Wait_. 

Wasn’t she with Avinthus? Why was she lying down? Blearily, she blinked until the details started filtering back in and she clued in to her surroundings. Dim lighting, a wild growth of barely-tame house plants, and the smell of bergamot told her she was at _Len’s_. And beside her-

“Oh,” she turned an impressive shade of pink, “I am so, _so _sorry.”

Molly had fallen asleep in Avinthus’ lap, which was the nook that she had been trying to burrow into. The unfamiliar staccato of his subvocals seemed vibrant with nerves, not that she could blame him. She had effectively just attempted to squirm her way into his crotch, leaving them both miserable with embarrassment. 

“How about I take you home?”

A momentary flash of panic traced through her. Nobody, not any of her classmates nor any of the girls at _Nova_, knew where she lived. 

“That sounds like a good plan.”

The panic had disappeared as quickly as it had sprung to life. Avinthus had earned her trust by now, or at the very least he had won enough of her favour that she no longer felt compelled to push him away. 

They squared up with Len, who beamed and waved them farewell as they crawled back into the pale lights that warned them the day cycle would be starting soon. Molly let Vinth place a steadying arm around her shoulders, leaning into him as she told him where they were heading. Luckily her apartment building was a stone’s throw away and it was only a few moments before they were at her door. 

After she punched in a long code the door sighed open and the smell of flowers and herbs rolled out to accost their senses. They both hesitated, wondering if they could steal a few extra moments in each others’ company. Molly smiled up at her tall new friend sleepily before a yawn bubbled up with so much force it caused her to wobble. He steadied her again, this time letting his talons trail along her arm for a moment until they could push up her sleeves. 

“Your uniform covers these up,” he commented quietly, “I had no idea.”

When she didn’t protest, he had pulled the sleeves of her long tunic up far enough to expose both her forearms. There was something different in the way he was moving and looking at her, something she was too tired to catch onto. A blunted talon delicately traced the lines of black flowers dabbed with colour on her left arm, his subvocals rumbling so deeply that she felt them swallowing her heart. She gulped. 

“I like them,” she was so tired she just let herself tip forward to brace herself against Vinth’s wide chest. He picked her up with ease, walking her inside with vague directions. Through a haze of exhaustion she told him where her bed was and apologized for the state of her apartment. 

It was tiny, crowded with plants that Len had been giving to her over the years. She had a very small kitchen area where she kept a cot (that was covered in data pads and study materials), and all of her possessions aside from the plants were kept in a suitcase. A tiny bathroom was the only extra room she had, and she knew her life looked pretty bleak inside her home. Vinth said nothing, however, instead he pushed aside her data pads and laid her gingerly down on her cot, tugging her sleeves back over her forearms. He _did _take a moment to read some of the text on her right arm, however. 

“My grandma wrote down all of her recipes before she died,” she explained sleepily, “I had them tattooed all over my arm, illustrations and all.”

Another indiscernible rumble sounded within his carapace and he crouched next to her for a moment. She reached out a small hand and placed it on his chest, her pale skin practically glowing against the rich black of his shirt thanks to the lights filtering in from outside the apartment. The rumbling grew a little louder and a giddy part of her was reminded of a purring cat. 

“Are you far from your apartment?” she managed to get out despite how heavily her words were slurring together. When he shook his head she moved her hand from his chest to his face, tracing over the hard ridges of his plates, “I’ll probably be asleep by then, but message me when you’re home safe anyhow?”

“Sure thing, Moll.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving her apartment still and cold. As she drifted off to sleep she longed for Vinth to come back, for the comforting presence of his subvocals to flood her cramped and lonely apartment, speaking to her in ways she could not grasp yet yearned for all the same. 

Instead, she pulled her blankets around her to drown out the chill and the loneliness she was left with once he had gone. Funny, that. She slept alone in her cramped apartment for years, never dwelling on the emptiness or the loneliness. Now, after one night in the company of Avinthus Flos, it felt like something was missing. 

When she finally managed to drift off, the slow crescendo of the morning bustle was just starting to reach its peak. People going to and from work, chatting over coffee, or just taking calls on their omnis was the usual lullaby that saw Molly off to sleep. It just took a little longer for it to pull her under this time.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once in her life Molly can't focus on studying. A call to her parents and an unexpected visitor help distract her until she's able to get back into the swing of things.

The sound of her alarm going off just a few short hours after drinks with Avinthus had Molly growling out a string of curses so colourful it would have made her salty old grandfather blush. If he was still alive. She was about to slam the snooze when an awful, insistent voice in the back of her head reminded her how close she was to finishing her program and how critical her last few exams were. So instead of sinking back into sleep she stopped her hand just in the nick of time, whining into her blankets and kicking her legs like a petulant child. She wanted to _sleep_, damn it, but she couldn’t, so she squirmed out of bed and grabbed a quick shower, tossing a splash of peppermint oil on the wall so the smell would mix with the steam and help wake her up.**  
**

Once she felt ready to face the day Molly twisted the water off, wincing at the loud clanging in the pipes as the knob squeaked into place. She wrapped her hair up in a pink towel and slipped into a matching, fluffy robe, then padded into the kitchen to make a quick cup of instant coffee.

_Okay_, she smacked her cheeks to get herself into the study zone while steam bloomed from her cup, _Go time_.

Except it wasn’t. No matter how hard she tried to focus it felt like her eyes were sliding over the text on her datapads without actually taking any of it in. She read, re-read, then re-read again, until eventually she had to admit defeat. After tossing her studies aside she screwed up her face, drumming her fingers restlessly against the small kitchen counter she was leaning on. Normally Molly was a model student; she never procrastinated, never wasted her time, and _never _struggled to study or absorb knowledge. So what the hell was it with this morning?

She frowned over her coffee cup, swallowing back the instant brew like it was medicine. In a way it was medicine: it was bitter and helped energize her, making it hideously unpleasant but functional. Medicine. _Bleghk_. It wasn’t like her budget allowed her to splurge on real beans, though, so she accepted her miserable lot in life and sighed, setting her cup down and twisting it round and round. She felt so uncharacteristically bird brained this morning. Molly Thorne was _not _a bird brained woman.

Another sigh. Between sleeping in after her late night and her current lack of focus, she was beginning to suspect she wouldn’t have a chance to get out of her apartment at all. Normally on one of her rare days off she would go for a little walk around the wards after studying. It gave her an opportunity to break away from the books and let her mind process the endless formulas, dosages, and details she buried herself in. 

_Not today if this keeps up._

Best to make the most of her idle time, then, and use the most precious gift her family had given her since she left Earth: a priority bandwidth subscription. How they managed to afford it she had no idea, but it meant she could call and mail them whenever she wished with very little delay. 

Fingers tapped across the surface of her omni until a steady ringing tone began to sound through her cramped little home. It wasn’t long before the ringing stopped and a screen she had set up on her counter flickered on, revealing the smiling faces of Heather and Lucas Thorne. 

Her father’s smile twisted into a teasing frown the moment he took in her tired appearance. 

“When was the last time you slept, bumblebee? You look awful.”

Heather elbowed him. Hard. Molly, however, just rolled her eyes. Apparently a simple hello was too much to ask for.

“Around the same time someone last laughed at one of your jokes, dad.”

Mock-concern flooded his expression and he gripped his chin, stroking the salt-and-pepper stubble, “That long, huh...you really should have one of you professors check you in as a patient before you drop dead.”

“You should note, my darling daughter,” Heather chimed in, “That the fact that your father is an idiot is not genetic. Thankfully your brains come from _me_.”

Molly grinned and watched her parents start to bicker. All in good fun, of course. They were a family that showed affection through playful jabs, and their back-and-forth was something she sorely missed. 

“But really, what’s happening? It’s a little early for you to be calling us on a study day.”

She shrugged, “I can’t focus, mom. Figured I could use a dose of dad humour. I’m doing some research to see if rolling my eyes hard enough can generate study power.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lucas pouted and folded his arms over his chest, earning a sympathetic pat on the head from his wife. 

“Don’t worry, love, we adore your humour. Having you around makes us look and feel so much better about ourselves-”

Heather was cut off by a torrent of fluttering fingers all around her sides, shrieking with laughter under her husband’s relentless assault. It was a well-known fact in the Thorne family that Heather’s greatest weakness was her ticklishness. A jab of homesickness punched Molly in the gut while she watched on, the chill in her apartment that much harder to keep out with her mood so low. She hugged her robe around herself a little more tightly.  
  
_A lonely idiot who can hardly read a paragraph of text. I’m really doing my parents proud._  
  
A knock on the door interrupted her grumpy thoughts.

“Expecting company?” Molly tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at her parents’ kitchen door in the background of the vid call.

Her parents exchanged a _look_.

“That wasn’t our door,” Heather shrugged. Lucas was in his glee, however, and while Molly pardoned herself to answer the door, wild with curiosity, she heard him call out, “Did you make friends and forget to tell us?”

Right. Like Vinth would be knocking on her door this early. It was probably some door-to-door pyramid scheme. Molly tightened and secured the belt of her robe and pulled the towel from her head, shaking out her damp hair in a failed attempt at looking a little more presentable for the stranger at her door. There was no time to deal with the bags under her eyes or the eyesore of a scar on her lip.

When the entrance to her apartment finally slid open with a pneumatic _hiss_, she found herself blinking down at a very pale and very large figure crouching on the floor. 

“Uh,” Vinth blinked right back up at her from where he was trying to scoop scone crumbs into a torn bag that had split open next to a very large cup of coffee, _real _coffee judging by the smell, “You weren’t supposed to catch me. I was going to leave this and go so I wouldn’t interrupt your studying, then uh...the bag tore after I knocked, and...Sorry?”

“Wait, is that actually a _friend_? Who is it? Bring ‘em in already! It’ll be a real thrill to see myth come to life!”

Molly looked from the comm screen to Vinth, whose curiosity had spiked judging by the raised brow plates. 

“Vid chat with my folks,” Molly explained, running her hand a little awkwardly through her damp hair, “If you don’t come talk to my dad I’ll never hear the end of it, so please? And, er, thanks. For the coffee.”

She knelt to help him with the mess of scones, offering up an apologetic grin as she swept the crumbs into the torn bag and folded it in to prevent any more spills. He seemed hesitant, but when they were done Vinth followed her into the apartment with her coffee in one hand and a dextro drink she knew by smell and not name in the other. They barely had time for him to set down their cups before her dad was buzzing with questions. 

“So who’s this? Where’d you meet my daughter? Is she giving you trouble? Let me apologize on her behalf because she hasn’t made a proper friend since she moved to the Citadel, so there’s probably just a pile of dust where her social skills should be-”

“_Lucas_,” that was Heather, hissing at him and driving an elbow into his ribs, “Let the poor man breathe before you interrogate him.”

To Molly’s great relief her father’s antics had Vinth chuckling instead of offending him. Confident that he could hold his own, she gave his arm a friendly pat and nodded towards her tiny bathroom. 

“I’m gonna get dressed, so I’m throwing you to the wolves for a moment.”

The turian looked from her eyes down to her hands, then finally took in the fact that Molly was wearing a fluffy robe and little more, the lay of the fabric showing off ample cleavage. His plated nose scrunched. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll hide the _flesh sacks_ for your delicate turian sensibilities,” she muttered low enough so her folks couldn’t overhear. Vinth didn’t do so well at hiding his chuckle, however, and her mother cleared her throat loudly just as Molly slipped away to change. 

“Now that you’re done keeping us out of the loop, love, bend down a little so we can see your face won’t you?”

Grinning at Vinth’s bumbling response while he scrambled to lean lower on the counter so her parents weren’t just staring at his torso, Molly slid the bathroom door shut behind her. She hauled on a black bra and a knitted, long-sleeved sweater dress that she had hanging on the wall, the mustard yellow colour an excellent match to the subtle red tones in her hair. Next she wiggled her way into a clean set of black panties, smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress, then grabbed a comb to pull through her hair and smooth it out . 

Vinth was trying his best to answer all of her father’s questions when she joined him in the kitchen again, deftly weaving her hair into a loose braid over her shoulder. It sounded like they had moved straight from introductions to an interrogation. Typical - her parents lived to poke, prod, and tease.

“We met at, er, well-”

“Work,” Molly finished, grinning a little, “We met while I was working, but don’t worry, I already vetted the guy. For someone who kills time at a skin bar, he’s not much of a creep. Shocking, I know.”

Molly, too, lived to poke, prod, and tease. 

“_Spirits_, Moll.”

Her grin just grew wider as she wrapped her hands around her paper cup and sipped her coffee, completely ignoring the disapproving shake of her mother’s head and her father’s snickering. Poor Vinth’s mandibles were flared open so wide it was a wonder they didn’t just fly right off, his fidgeting hands relentless enough in their worrying that the cuffs of his sleeves stood no chance. His talons had already made short work of the fabric. Poor thing had no idea what he had walked into; Molly’s parents were fairly young and her relationship with them was more akin to friendship than anything else. She was completely open with them and vice versa, which meant she didn’t hide any aspect of her life, work, or studies from them. Although she did play down just how dangerous _Red Nova_ could be.

Vinth was probably the only part of her life she hadn’t immediately shared with them, come to think of it, but that was more due to the fact that she had spent all of her recent conversations with them babbling over how excited she was to start working at _Huerta Memorial_.

For Vinth’s side of things, she hadn’t really told him much about her parents or the strong friendship she had with them. Nothing in any of the conversations they had before could have prepared him for how open she could be with her folks or how they all carried on. So here they were, torturing the poor guy with their total lack of boundaries. If he could blush she was certain he’d turn a violently embarrassed hue thanks to the way she was talking. 

“Please, dear, don’t mind our little bumblebee,” Heather apologized, “Her teasing is a sign of affection and we’re much too clever to think poorly of you because of her ridiculous sense of humour.”

“Y-yeah, uh, thanks?”  
  
“We can make it up to him pretty easily, dear.”  
  
The fox’s grin her father wore had Molly’s stomach dropping. She gripped her coffee cup hard enough for the lid to pop off while Vinth blinked cluelessly at her side, but before she had time to ask what he meant Lucas had already cut the video for their call. When the feed came back it was no longer her parents they were looking at, but a large picture of a very awkward and very knobby-kneed young girl smiling through a mouthful of braces from atop a handsome bay-coloured gelding. 

In a matter of seconds Molly had turned a furious shade of ruby-red. 

“Dad,” she whined, “Why the hell did it have to be _that _one?”

On top of the ridiculous braces, young Molly was sporting one of her sparkly leotards that she always wore for lessons at freak school and a healthy peppering of hormonal pimples. It had to be one of the ugliest photos they had ever taken of her, bad enough that it had Vinth buckled and sputtering with laughter against the counter. It started out as a quiet trembling then hit him with full force, forcing him to clutch his waist with one hand and the counter with the other, all while gasping for air.

“What?” her father asked, feigning innocence, “It’s a good photo! You were so happy when we brought Chester home to you, just look at that smile!”

“What smile?” Vinth chimed in breathlessly, “All I see is a mouth full of metal.”

All three of them fell into fits of laughter, leaving Molly standing there with a crooked scowl on her face. 

“You’re lucky you brought me coffee, snowball,” she huffed, or I’d blast your ass with a singularity.”

“Wait, what? You’re a biotic?”

Curiosity cut his laughter short and left Molly with a smug little smirk, at least until her mother finally added her two cents. 

“Don’t worry, love. She’s just barely biotic, and definitely not strong enough to create a singularity.”

“Strong enough to knock him on his ass, though,” Molly grumbled, knowing without even looking at him that her turian friend was far from intimidated. She could hear him chuckling again. 

The picture on the comm screen was switched out for a home video of her playing with spaghetti and meatballs as a toddler. She groaned while her mother’s cooing voice sounded softly in the background of the vid. Vinth was captivated, yet more chuckles rolling out of his wide chest every time little Molly squished a meatball in her tiny hands. 

“And this is our little bumblebee when she was about three,” Heather informed them all, “Wasn’t she just the cutest?”

“Really, mom, what’s to stop me from hanging up on you right now?”

“You’d never hang up on your mother.”  
  
_Shit_.  
  
It was true. Molly would never, no matter what happened between them, hang up on either one of her parents. Her threat was completely empty, even when the comm screen flickered back to reveal both of her parents looking like the cat who got the cream. All she could do was cross her arms over her chest and _huff_. She wanted to keep grumbling at them but Avinthus had finally relaxed next to her, no worrying his cuffs and no nittering subvocals. How could she be mad when a bit of laughter at her expense helped break the ice?  
  
_I’m far too magnanimous._

“So what’s with the bumblebee thing?” icy blue eyes moved from the comm screen to fix Molly with a curious look, his brow plates raising slightly, “Isn’t that some sort of earth bug?”  
  
“It certainly is, love. Has Molly told you what I do for a living?”  
  
When Vinth shook his head, Heather took that as an invitation to keep talking. Lucas, for once, kept quiet at her side, stroking his scruffy chin.  
  
“I’m a botanist with a focus in palynology. My parents were farmers and when they passed they left us their land,” she faltered for a moment and Lucas reached over to squeeze her shoulder. After a steadying breath she continued, “I turned it into a playground for research, and it became a real playground when Molly came into the picture. From the minute she started walking she’d toddle around from flower to flower, making sure to sniff each and every one. If we didn’t pull her inside she’d probably fall asleep in the dirt every night.”  
  
Funny. Heather was the one talking to Vinth, but Molly could feel Vinth’s eyes on her. Again she had that feeling that he was staring straight into her, and it took a moment for her to work up the nerve to look back at him. For a guy with such a soft personality, his eyes were unsettling in how intense they were. She felt gooseflesh raise on her skin, far too aware of how close they were standing and how much heat was rolling off of him, chasing away the chill in the air.  
  
“So we started calling her bumblebee,” Lucas finished, pulling both Vinth and Molly’s attention back to the screen, “Because bees...well, they bumble from flower to flower, collecting nectar and spreading pollen.”  
  
For the cherry on the cake of this conversation, Heather and Lucas were once more replaced by a home vid of Molly. This was another toddler video, one where she was buck naked and stomping around in the dirt sniffing every flower she could reach.  
  
“Hey Moll?” Vinth’s gaze was fixed on the screen, his voice low enough to keep her parents from overhearing. She tensed, the low rumbling of his voice freezing her for a moment.  
  
“Hm?” she managed to reply, hugging her arms.  
  
“You’re never living this down, you know.”  
  
_Hell_.  
  
She could hear the smirk in his voice, and when she turned to face him the sidelong glance he cast in her direction with that obnoxious twinkle in his eyes confirmed it.  
  
“Laugh it up, snowball.”  
  
Her folks caught that one.  
  
“Aw, bumblebee, did we embarrass you? I’m so sorry, dear.”  
  
“Uh-huh. Thanks mom, you sound truly sincere.”  
  
“Anything for you, darling,” Heather chuckled as the screen cut back to her and Lucas’ comm screen, “But we’re going to have to let you go now so we can get ready.”  
  
Molly’s head tilted to the side. Ready..?  
  
“Oh! Book signing! Dad wrote a book, now he gets to sign copies and talk to his adoring public. Right.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, Citadel girl,” her dad pouted, “Too busy and important to remember major milestones in your father’s life, I understand.”  
  
“Riiiight, it’s a major milestone. And how many other signings have you done this year?”  
  
“Alright, alright, go on with your day, space girl.”  
  
“Goodbye bumblebee, Avinthus. Have a lovely day,” Heather slipped in with a soft smile before the comm feed flickered out.  
  
Silence stretched between the two of them for a few long moments until the snowball’s ridiculous trembling started up again.  
  
_Three, two…_  
  
And there was the laughter. Manic, belly-clenching laughter that forced the massive lug to fall back against the counter and slide down the cupboards. It was obnoxious just how much he was enjoying the small peek he had into the life and times of Molly Thorne. All she could do was sip her coffee and ride it out, rolling her eyes at the very large turian having fits on her apartment floor. When he finally seemed to have it out of his system she reached a foot up to his shoulder and pushed him. Or tried to push him, rather, as he was exceptionally solid and heavy.   
  
Vinth finally came to his senses and he blinked up at her, a hand still hanging slack on his stomach. She was standing with one foot perched on his shoulder and her hands on her hips, an impressive scowl set into her otherwise soft features. For a moment she thought she had him feeling intimidated thanks to the way he whipped his head around to stare at the floor, but then she realized exactly what sort of view her current position was giving him.  
  
“Oops,” she dropped her foot to the floor and smoothed her dress, flushing slightly, “Sorry, big guy.”  
  
“I came to drop off coffee and leave,” he grumbled, the light and easy subvocals filling her apartment betraying his feigned sourness, “But I wound up coming in here for ten minutes and somehow shaving five years off my life.”  
  
Molly couldn’t stop the grin that twitched to life in the corners of her lips. She grabbed her coffee and Vinth’s untouched drink off the counter before joining him on the floor, leaning her back against his arm. He grabbed his drink from her and they both took a moment to sip in silence.  
  
“Are all your conversations with your parents like that?”  
  
Molly polished off her coffee and reached up to put the cup back on the counter, _harrumphing _when she realized her arms were too short and her ribs were still too sore to stretch easily. True to form, Vinth chuckled at her struggle and laid his drink down so he could take her cup from her, laying it on the counter above them with ease.  
  
“Pretty much, yeah,” she watched his hand travel up with her paper cup and fall back down by his side, “Rush straight into the jabs, no hellos, trade some stories, sometimes Chester pokes his head through the kitchen door, then a goodbye. And I could have gotten that back on the counter by myself, you know.”  
  
“Chester? Wasn’t that the animal you were sitting on in that picture? And I’m sure you could have reached...if you stood up.”  
  
“Yes, Chester, and he’s not just some _animal_, he’s a horse. A handsome one. He hangs around the house sometimes and if he hears me on the comms he comes running. I miss him.”  
  
“You miss him? But he’s an animal-”

“_Horse_,” she reiterated with what was meant to be a sharp elbow to the gut. Instead she missed and wound up cracking her elbow off his carapace and cursing, “Aaagh, damned carapace! And I totally could have reached it on my own _without _standing up.”  
  
“How do you manage being so graceful on stage when you’re so clumsy, bumblebee?”  
  
“Why did I let you in my apartment again?”  
  
“I brought you coffee, then you told me I had to come in to appease your parents. You said _please_.”  
  
“Huh. You’re right.”  
  
Molly wiggled to the side and let herself fall back on Vinth’s chest instead of his arm, turning him into her own personal recliner. It wasn’t lost on her how quickly she had gone from not trusting him to using him as furniture, but she wasn’t about to dwell on it. Talking to her parents had her missing home, missing a place where she was surrounded by love and friends and the kind of people who let you lounge on them without question. She was homesick after that call, like she was after every call to her folks, but this time it was hitting her harder than normal. Back on Earth when she was down she’d cuddle up with her mom and watch old vids, the kind of vids you had to access through museums, the kind that were shot on black and white film before humanity had ever reached the moon.  
  
Throwing herself on Vinth was no _Casablanca _night in the Thorne house, but she could at least admit that it was nice not to be on her own. It was certainly better than sitting in her chilly apartment and stewing on the fact that she couldn’t focus on her studies with finals just around the corner.  
  
“Ah, Moll?” Vinth sounded a little off, a little uncomfortable, concerned, or some mixture of the two. He was tense, too, but that was no surprise considering how she had just invaded his personal space.   
  
“Hm?”  
  
She could feel his breath skimming over the top of her head, warming her scalp and making her want to squirm. He had very warm breath.  
  
“You...doing okay? You don’t seem yourself.”  
  
Molly could feel how uneasy he was, could see the way his hands fidgeted before he dropped them. She realized that he was probably trying to worry the cuffs of his sleeves, but stopped when he realized that meant he’d be wrapping his arms around her. A part of her she was all too eager to leave in the dark was disappointed that he hadn’t.  
  
“You mean I don’t seem myself because I’m leaning on you and I’m not acting like there’s a big chip on my shoulder?”   
  
He made an affirmative whirring tone, a low sound that she could feel ringing through his carapace.  
  
“This is who I am when my guard’s down, snowball, so if you don’t like it I suggest running,” she sighed and drew her knees up to hug them close to her chest, “Besides, my family and all the people who care about me are about fifty thousand lightyears away right now. Let me sook without judgment, please.”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“Well what?”  
  
“Not all of the people,” he said quietly, and she heard him picking his cup up again.  
  
“What?”  
  
A long pause stretched between them with Vinth’s subvocals shifting up and down in a pattern that her ignorant ears simply couldn’t decipher. They were easier to feel than to hear, and understanding them? She might figure that out after one lifetime.  
  
“Not all the people who care about you are lightyears away.”  
  
His words were so quiet she almost missed them, so soft she felt her breath catch in her throat. It was disarming the way his voice could elicit such strong reactions from her. How long had it been since someone spoken to her like _that_?  
  
“I mean, well, there’s Len and-”  
  
“I get it, Vinth. Don’t ruin the moment.”  
  
She didn’t have to say it again. This time the lull in conversation was a comfortable one, leaving them in “silence but for the presence of turian subvocals. Molly was so comfortable, in fact, that she felt her eyes growing heavy the moment she adjusted herself into a comfortable position against Vinth’s rigid carapace. It wasn’t surprising considering how late they had both stayed up and how early their day started. 

The big lug of a turian must have been feeling it too. He hardly tensed when she turned onto her side and grabbed his arm, hugging it to her chest like it was some sort of teddy. Instead a sound she had never heard from him began to rumble deep in his chest. It was almost as if he was purring, a melodic sort of purr that sounded like a blend of avian and feline sounds. She could feel his carapace rumbling, could feel herself relaxing, and just like that something clicked into place.  
  
“Huh,” she drew her wrist towards herself, startling Vinth as the motion jostled his arm. A few quick taps on her omni and a sea of notes, formulas, and diagrams was projected before her.  
  
“Bright,” complained the sleepy turian, his alien purring cut short by her fidgeting, “Studying?”  
  
“Yeah,” her answer came just as she lowered the brightness of her omni’s display, “I couldn’t focus at all before I called my folks, couldn’t take anything in no matter how much I stared at my notes. I actually took a _break_.”  
  
The disbelieving huff from her companion had Molly rolling her eyes.  
  
“The call was the break. I can take breaks.”  
  
“Yeah. The defensive tone is really convincing.”  
  
“You can either stuff it and let me study or you can leave, snowball.”  
  
A grin twisted itself into place on her lips when Vinth kept his mouth shut and he grumbled low in his chest. She adjusted her position slightly so she could comfortably scroll through her notes, a little surprised that laying back on a guy with a carapace and rigid plates could be comfortable at all. Once she was settled, the world and everything in it melted away so that all Molly could see was a steady stream of notes and pictures. It felt good to finally be back in a normal study rhythm, even if it did require what amounted to a large, snowy-white body pillow with a hell of a lot of spikes.

She lost track of how many hours passed like that. Molly Thorne’s focus was laser-sharp and unbreakable in the right setting. In the quiet chill of her apartment, with Vinth acting as a heat source and the bustle of the ward outside creating the perfect white noise, she was in her element. It wasn’t until she had cleared through the chapters she had assigned herself to study that reality began slipping through to remind her of the basic necessities she required.  
  
Hunger was at the top of that list. Her stomach let out a loud, demanding growl, convincing her to swipe away her notes and throw in the towel for the day. Avinthus was still sleeping soundly and she was briefly tempted to join him in his napping, but her stomach growled again and she knew it was time to get up. There was no rush, though. She took a moment to close her eyes and let her head sink back into the warm crook of the sleeping turian’s shoulder, soaking in a moment of quiet peace with a deep breath. She never noticed it before, but Vinth had a surprisingly lovely scent, one that reminded her of churned soil after a rainfall. There was a slight hint of something metallic there too, and it took more self control than she cared to admit to stop herself from burying her face in his shoulder just to inhale and appreciate the way he smelled.  
  
_Enough of that, now_, she mentally kicked herself.  
  
Slowly, so as not to startle him awake, Molly slipped away and returned Vinth’s large and very muscular arm to his side. Now all she had to do was figure out how she was going to wake him, which was actually a very difficult situation to find herself in. After all, she could go for the high road and wake him gently, maybe by reheating the drink that was still in his hand, untouched and miraculously upright. Or she could be an absolute brat and wake him with loud music, or by dipping his hands in warm water.

_Nah, that would be too far._  
  
Crossing her legs and pulling her dress down to make sure everything was covered, Molly sat on the floor in front of Vinth and stared up at his sleeping face. Up, because even while he was slouched over and asleep the guy dwarfed her. He was just so _tall_. Grey eyes swept over the sleeping turian and she had to chew her lips to keep from smiling. He looked like a different person while he slept, so serene and so still. There was no bumbling, no nervous fidgeting or restless drumming of his talons, just the steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathed.  
  
Before she realized what she was doing Molly reached up and brushed a finger over his face. Despite the body heat the guy radiated, the plates that covered his face felt slightly cool. There was a slight blue cast to them, too, if she tilted her head in the right direction. She knew there would be, of course, but she had never really paid attention to the reflective quality of his plated skin before. The hints of blue and violet were striking, a welcome burst of colour in his otherwise monochromatic look.  
  
He cut an impressive figure, that Avinthus Flos.  
  
Molly rested a small hand on the side of his face and watched his eyes flutter beneath closed lids as he began, very slowly, to wake. A slow smile curved its way into her soft features, round grey eyes crinkling in the corners just as Vinth began to blink awake. She swept a thumb across a plated cheek before pulling her hand back, realizing too late that he was already aware enough to realize what she was doing before she withdrew.  
  
“Morning, sleepy,” she laughed a little awkwardly, “Life for the unemployed must be really doing a number on you, hm?”

“Huh - what?”  
  


Avinthus attempted to straighten his posture and get his bearings, too groggy to fully process what she had said. He moved his hand to touch the warm spot where her hand had been resting. More specifically, he moved the hand that had been holding his drink the entire time he slept, which meant that it was no longer miraculously upright.

  
“Shit!”  
  
Cold, indigo liquid with a slightly sweet scent began soaking its way through Vinth’s blue-grey pants. He cursed and started scrambling, looking for something to mop it up. Shaking her head, Molly hopped to her feet and grabbed a dish towel from her counter, tossing it down at her friend.  
  
“This is the truth at the bottom of your mystery, isn’t it?” she asked, completely deadpan, “You were kicked out of the military because you’re a disaster, right? At least tell me you didn’t spill anything on your commanding officer.”  
  


“You’re exactly right,” Vinth let out a flanging sigh, “I was kicked out of the military because I’m a disaster. A disaster who spilled _caldulsi _on his commanding officer. Good guess, bumblebee.” 

_Bah! Bumblebee my ass_.

It didn’t seem right that the guy dabbing his drink off his pants still seemed to have the upper hand, and in her apartment, no less. She had forgotten just how easily one could weaponize the bumblebee stories. With a haughty huff she leaned back against the counter and started running her fingers through her now-dry hair.  
  
“I’m not living that down any time soon, am I?”  
  
“Spirits, no,” Vinth pushed himself up off the floor and moved to her sink, twisting on the water to soak the dish cloth, “I’ve got at least a year’s worth of material today and I plan on using it until it turns to dust.”  
  
“Don’t worry about the cloth,” she reached over him and turned off the water, pulling the cloth out of his hands to wring it dry, “You should be more concerned about your clothes, there, mystery man. That’s a pretty ugly stain.”  
  
Vinth looked down at his clothes and grumbled, leaning back against the counter, bracing his weight on his hands.  
  
“Yeah. _Caldulsi _is delicious, but...ah, shit.”  
  
“Language, language.”  
  
Whatever Vinth was going to bounce back with was cut off by Molly’s growling stomach. He looked from her waist to her round, deceptively sweet face and the raised plates above his brows smacked of a smirk.   
  
“Hungry?”  
  
“No, auditioning for a play. I’m learning to throw my voice.”  
  
“Well consider me impressed. I can take off if you want, let you get back to studying and feeding your,” he looked her up and down pointedly, feigning snooty judgment, “thrown voice.”  
  
Molly leaned forward a little, her hair falling around her in long curtains, and arched a brow at her massively tall friend.   
  
“You’re going to go out with a big blue stain on your crotch?” she smirked, her tone admonishing, “Or you’re going to hear me out?”  
  
Vinth looked down at the gargantuan stain, then folded his arms to await her proposal.  
  
“I figure it’s only fair for me to pay you back for the coffee and for your part time work as furniture while I studied,” she shrugged, “And I was sentimental when I left Earth, so I have a couple of my dad’s shirts here with me you can wear. Plus I have a pair of harem pants that’ll fit you. I’ll wash your clothes so they don’t stain permanently, order food in, and then we can watch a vid?”  
  
He regarded her for a moment, mandibles flicking as he sifted through his thoughts and finally conceded. Taloned hands fell away from her counter and poked at the wet spot on his shirt.  
  
“If you don’t need to keep studying then sure, yeah,” he shrugged, “But I’m washing my own clothes. Just tell me where to go.”  
  
Molly’s brow arched again, this time more in amusement than anything else. She, too, shrugged, then knelt by her cot to fish through the suitcase that held her clothes. After a few minutes of searching, she pulled out one of her dad’s old, loose t-shirts that was big enough to fit Vinth and his broad chest, shoulders, and carapace. It had been one of her dad’s too-large work shirts that he’d worn around the garden once or twice before her mother ripped it off of him and shoved something that fit in his hands. The mottled blue fabric featured a very cheerful cartoon dolphin, which made a truly stunning ensemble when paired when her soft, black harem pants. She tossed them at Vinth, whose mandibles practically vibrated when he stared down at them.  
  
Molly snorted.  
  
“You can get changed in the bathroom.”  
  
The sound Vinth made in the back of his throat when he trudged off was pretty indicative of how he felt about the outfit she’d put together for him.  
  
“Still want to bring your clothes to the laundry room? It’s on the first floor.”

When he emerged from the bathroom his subvocals were thrumming with irritation, dolphin t-shirt hanging loose on his carapace and the long, sleek horns on his legs creating a _fascinating _silhouette with the harem pants that were far too short and left his calves exposed.  
  
“This,” he grumbled, “Was payback, wasn’t it?”  
  
Two wide, grey eyes blinked twice, three times, and once more before Molly started shrieking with laughter.  
  
“That,” she coughed out between fits, “Was not the intention. But wow. _Wow_. I really came out of this in first place didn’t I?”  
  
“_Agh_.”  
  
He tossed his clothes at her and she caught them, her demeanour shifting gears quickly. She closed the small distance between them, hands on her hips, and scowled up at him.  
  
“Do I look like a maid service? Where do you get off throwing your dirty clothes at me?”  
  
He started sputtering until she smirked at him and bounced towards the door.  
  
“Gotcha,” she chirped, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Order whatever you’d like and make yourself comfortable, I’ll set up the screen when I get back.”  
  
Miraculously there was a vacant two-in-one washer/dryer when she got to the laundry room on the first floor, and better yet there was nobody else from her building there, which meant no forced small talk or awkward silence to contend with. When she got back to her apartment Vinth was sitting on her cot, scrolling through menus on his omnitool.  
  
“Remind me why I’m here again,” he grumbled as he confirmed his order and swiped away the display.  
  
“Hey, if you recall I resisted your company very strongly,” she shot back as she flopped onto the cot beside Vinth, leaning against him as she made her own food order on her omni, “So this is all on you.”  
  
“Not the first bad call I’ve ever made,” he sighed, “Maybe the worst one, though. What is on this shirt?”  
  
“Why that’s Dappy the Dolphin,” Molly giggled as her grumpy turian companion shoved her off of him. She fell back on the cot with a bounce before continuing, “And I have to say, his blues really match the stark white thing you have going for you. It’s really quite fetching. Mind if I take a holo-”  
  
Vinth cut her off by covering her mouth with a very large, taloned hand and sighing. He fixed her with a tired look until she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him, which inspired a very amusing turn of events.

First: his brow plates dropped as the confusion set in, since he was clueless as to what her wiggling brows implied. Then when he moved his hand away, Molly tilted her head to one side and said, “So kinky.”

When he finally realized that _that _was what she had been getting at, Vinth jumped to his feet. He started apologizing and babbling about how that wasn’t what he had meant, that he was just trying to get her to stop teasing him incessantly and he thought he was being funny. Then, at some point during his worried pacing, the horns on his legs managed to rip clean through her comfy pants. _That _started the whole process of panicking and apologizing all over. He paced until he tired himself out and finally sunk back down on the cot, burying his face in his hands while Molly looked on and did her best not to burst out laughing at him. She figured he finally earned a break from her relentless prodding.  
  
“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, scooting back in the cot until she was leaning against the wall, “I’m done. For now.”  
  
Her grin faltered as Vinth turned around to fix her with a very_ ‘you better be’_ sort of look. For a moment she was afraid she was going to burst into laughter at his ridiculous outfit again, but instead she found herself completely pinned in place when his gaze caught hers. She stared back at him, transfixed, as what was meant to be a levelling glare shifted into something she couldn’t quite place. Molly felt her chest pounding the longer she looked into Vinth’s icy, intense eyes, then felt her breath catch when he leaned in close to her. The scent of soil after a rainfall flooded her senses, made her cheeks turn pink.  
  
“Look, I have to tell-”  
  
Whatever he was going to say was cut short by a shrill, pulsing bell tone that cut through the tension to alert Molly to an incoming call. Startled out of her momentary entrancement, she tapped the screen of her omni to answer the call, lips turning down into a worried frown. It was Valla, and Valla never called her.  
  
“Hey Moll,” her voice was hoarse. Had she been crying?

“I know this was supposed to be a free day for you to study, but we need you tonight if you can work.”  
  
Exchanging confused glances with Vinth (since she forgot her omni was still linked up with the speakers on her comm screen and he could hear the conversation), she rubbed the back of her head and said, “Yeah, of course I can work, but what’s up?”  
  
“It’s Leore, she...she can’t work tonight,” the asari’s words were quiet, choked. Valla never got choked up, never sounded so...small. Worry pounded through Molly’s chest like a peal of thunder, “She can’t work for a while, actually, but she had a few big tables booked for tonight. The other girls can cover them if you come work the silks for a shift..”  
  
There was something she wasn’t saying, something dark and horrible hidden in between the lines of what Valla was asking her. The silks were meant to break up the raunchy performances, like a palate-cleanser. It was what she did to give the crowd something to look at while_ Red Nova _staff cleaned the stage, something that was tame enough to keep them from getting rowdy but captivating enough to keep them entertained.  
  
Molly’s brows furrowed and she sat up straight, as if better posture could somehow make the situation a little less foreboding.

“You know I’ll help out however I can, Valla, but is Leore okay? She wouldn’t miss work, especially not a few nights in a row. What’s going on?”  
  
There was a long, horrible silence before Valla spoke. When she did, her voice broke in a way Molly had never heard before.  
  
“It was Briggs,” came the shaky response, “He was tearing through the place in a rage on his way to his office...Moll, you have to be alert when you come in. Keep away from him.”

Vinth leapt off the cot and started pacing, his subvocals flooding the room with a steady and heated droning. He was mad, _really _mad, but if he didn’t get a grip then there was a good chance that Valla would figure out Molly wasn’t alone and she wouldn’t want to share anything about Briggs with an outsider. She’d see it as too much of a risk. So Molly caught the restless turian’s eye and glared a warning. He paused, his eyes burning, but he knew just as well as she did that without the right tech to block it, turian subvocals at certain frequencies could be picked up by comms. They’d sound like feedback, sure, but Valla was smart as a whip and had lived on the Citadel long enough to be suspicious of comm feedback.  
  
“What _happened_, Valla,” Molly demanded once Vinth got his temper under control. She was trying desperately to ignore the fear that was creeping through her veins like ice, her fingertips pressed lightly against her neck as she recalled her last run-in with Briggs. Valla had kept a level head that night. Valla always kept a level head. Hearing her sound so afraid was beyond troubling.  
  
“L-Leore came in early because she left her necklace behind after her shift last night,” Valla explained, her voice quiet, “It was the one her father gave her when he was still alive so she was in a panic without it. She ran into Briggs on her way in, and- and another one of his deals was busted, Moll. I think there’s something more happening that he’s keeping to himself, because he’s gotten so paranoid. He won’t even clue in the thugs he’s always got flanking him. And, well, Moll is new, which to him means she’s suspect. So when he saw her...  
  


“Moll, he beat her bad. _Really _bad. His guys had to pull him off of her, and her face...her- her face is just-”  
  
There was a loud sob, then another as Valla struggled to keep herself together. Vinth was pacing, his mandibles flared and his jaw hanging open, showing off his teeth. He was like a snarling beast pacing its cage, waiting to be set upon unsuspecting prey. She held up a hand, pleading once more for him to keep quiet when she heard a predatory rumbling in his chest. It took a few moments, but eventually he conceded.  
  
“Valla?”  
  
A deep breath sounded from the speakers, followed by a soft apology.  
  
“We don’t know if she’ll even make it, Moll, but one of Briggs’ guys brought her to a doctor they trust. One who’s under the LT’s thumb, and I don’t know what that means for her. I don’t know how to help her and it’s tearing me apart.”  
  
Molly opened her mouth to speak, to offer some sort of comfort, but Valla cut her off.  
  
“And look, I’m sorry,” the asari’s voice sounded tortured, “I’m sorry I’m asking you to come in with all this going on. You should be staying as far away from this place as you can. You’re so close to starting a real career, you’re so close to being free of this pit, but… well, we need you. He’s been going through the books, combing through everything to try to find some sort of clue as to who it is that’s spilling all his secrets. He’ll see the cancellations and go nuts from losing that much money. Every deal that gets busted costs him money, people, and trust. So just for tonight, Moll, please. If we start losing money, too, goddess knows what he’ll do to us. Just tonight, and then we’ll figure something out for you.”  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
It was a lot to take in. Her eyes stung and tears were starting to well. Poor Leore was the sweetest girl in that place. She was lovely and soft-hearted...fuck, she deserved better, but like every other girl dancing in _Red Nova_ her options had been too limited and she was stuck as one of Briggs’ girls. And then there was Briggs himself, more violent and unstable than ever. Going to Nova would be like walking into a den of angry mutant varren, but if staying home meant putting Valla or anyone else at risk, then what could she do? She would never be able to live with herself if anything else happened to someone at Nova who didn’t deserve it.  
  
Molly looked up at Vinth, who knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. He looked as though he was about to argue with her but she held out her hand to silence him. His jaw snapped shut and he looked away sharply, skirting a hand along a hip before clenching it into a fist. It wasn’t lost on Molly that his hand had moved as though he was expecting to find a pistol on his hip.  
  
“I’ll be in. Just name a time.”  
  
There was a long pause before Valla sighed and said, “A part of me was hoping you’d hang up and never show your face here again. But, well...thanks, Moll. This means everything to us.”  
  
“Of course, V,” replied Molly, “If it means keeping the heat off of you guys, I’ll do anything to help.”  
  
Another muffled sob came through the speakers before Valla continued and said, “We’ll need you a little later this evening, just be ready to start at 1900 and _be careful_. I’ll try to have someone meet you at the entrance, and if we’re lucky that stalker of yours will show, too. I’m sure he’d shred someone to ribbons if they tried to lay a hand on you. He has that ‘I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again’ look to him. Find me as soon as you’re here.”  
  
The call disconnected after a brief but emotional goodbye and Molly sunk back against the wall, her skin numb and her heart thundering. She was terrified. For Leore, for the girls, for Valla, and for herself. What the hell was she thinking, agreeing to work on a night when she knew Briggs would be on a murderous rampage? She had already pissed him off once, had already gotten herself on his shit list. So why did she feel so compelled to do the right thing? Why couldn’t she just play coward and hide away?  
  
“You can’t go.”  
  
She looked up at Vinth, knowing full well that she was wearing her terror on her sleeve and that he could see it plain as day. Hell, her fingertips were still pressed against her throat. He’d have to be blind to miss the signs.   
  
“He’s a monster, Moll,” he snarled, pacing back and forth again, “A sick and twisted psychopath. You can’t go in, I don’t care if they need you-”

“_I_ do.”  
  
He froze where he stood, hands curled into fists as he stared down at her, trying to suss out the right thing to say. The buzzing presence of his subvocals filled the silence, indecipherable but incessant nonetheless.  
  
“_I _care if they need me,” she continued, hugging her knees close to her chest and doing her best to put on a brave face from her seat on the cot, “I know it’s crazy to consider going in, and I don’t want to go, but I’ve known Valla since I first moved to the Citadel and I’ve known most of the girls there just as long. They’ve all helped me get to where I am now. Sick calls, switching shifts, covering my tables whenever I panicked about an exam so I could go home early to rest or study. That is the foundation I’m building my career, hell, the rest of my life on. I owe them every bit of success I’ll ever have, and I’m going to go to work tonight to make sure I don’t get another call tomorrow telling me that Briggs has beat someone else I care about bloody.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
He hissed between his teeth, subvocals charging the air in her apartment with anxious energy. Molly watched as her furious companion leaned over her counter, gripping it hard so he could force himself to keep still, his talons scratching into the finish.  
  
“I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I hate this,” he continued, staring hard at the blank comm screen with his mandibles wide open and showing off rows of sharp teeth once more, “I hate knowing you’re going to walk in there with that fucking lunatic, Moll. I could do something, I could-”  
  
“That makes two of us,” she cut him off, her words infused with a bitter laugh. She sounded as miserable as she looked with her tears finally spilling over and soaking her cheeks, “I hate it just as much as you.”  
  
“It’s not funny-”  
  
His voice was raised when he whipped around to face her and tell her off, but he lost his steam when he saw her crying. The fight left him with each breath he took until his mouth and mandibles eased shut and his shoulders sagged. Looking at him like that, seeing him so utterly defeated made her feel like a cold fist was clamped around her heart.  
  
“Shit Moll, I’m sorry,” said Vinth finally, his voice soft, “I just...I don’t what I’d do if he got his hands on you again, if he-”  
  
He cut himself off again when fresh, hot tears slid down her cheeks and she balled her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. She was scared, so she turned her head away and stared hard at one of her potted plants. Molly could feel the intensity of his gaze cutting into her, could sense his worry and the hungry way he was searching for a way to fix things. It made her want to hide.  
  
Quietly, with her voice shaking, said asked him, “Are you going again tonight?”  
  
“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried,” came his growling response. She finally looked back at him and offered a weak thanks by way of a frail smile. She was terrified, yes, but knowing he would be close by made her feel a little better at least. For a moment she felt the weight on her chest ease off, but then she thought about Leore and it crashed down again.  
  
“She’ll make it, Moll,” Vinth closed the gap between the counter and the cot in one stride, sitting down on the edge and wringing his hands in lieu of worrying his cuffs since her father’s shirt left his arms bare. Her gaze traced over every inch of his arms. They were long and muscular, the snowy-white hide peppered with blue and purple scars. Many of the scars she recognized from the rounds she’d tagged along for in her program. There were gunshot wounds, knife wounds, varren bites and gouges that only turian claws could cause. How had she not noticed it when he first put on the shirt? With long sleeves on, Vinth had always appeared so pristine, so _untouchable_. Yet there he was, a veritable encyclopedia of battle wounds proving that even one as large and as strong as he was could never truly be invulnerable.  
  
So then what chance did a sweet girl like Leore have at surviving Briggs’ wrath? A pitiful sound escaped the back of Molly’s throat and Vinth’s hand moved to one of her balled fists. He grabbed hold and tugged her gently towards him. At first she resisted, afraid that if she moved she might fall apart. When he tugged again she looked up at him and trembled at what she saw. There was a powerful anguish there, a misery that had her coming undone, so she caved and let him pull her into his arms.  
  
And just like that the seal was broken.  
  
She didn’t have to shoulder this alone, didn’t have to put on a brave face or force herself to stay level-headed for once. Vinth was practically inviting her to let it all out and lean on him both literally and figuratively, and that was all it took for her to bury herself in him. She gripped the low edge of his cowl on one side of his keel bone while she pressed her face against the backs of her hands and sobbed.   
  
Avinthus, sweet and bumbling Avinthus, just held her while she fell apart and that strange melodic purring started rolling through chest again. His cowl acted almost like an echo chamber for the sounds he made, something she hadn’t noticed before, and the more she focused on it the easier it became to breathe and steady herself. She could feel the way it rumbled through his carapace, reminding her of the barn cats that skulked around her family’s farmland back on Earth, the ones who eventually warmed up to her and would curl up and purr in her lap.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, until a little alarm tone sounded in Molly’s omni to remind them that Vinth’s clothes were ready. She pushed away from him, drying her cheeks with her sleeves so she could head back down to grab his things until he insisted he could grab them himself.  
  
“But the clothes you’re wearing,” she reminded him, her voice straining around the lump in her throat, “If someone sees you-”  
  
“Then they’ll notice how the blues really match the stark white thing I’ve got going for me,” he reminded her gently, “I’ll be back in a minute.”  
  
It took him a moment to finally release her so he could head downstairs. When he did, he had to gingerly pluck each one of her fingers from his cowl to get free. She watched him do it, partly because she was in shock and partly because forcing him to move her hands meant delaying the moment he left her alone. Vinth must have had his own apprehensions about leaving her, too, because when he finally moved her hands from the ridge of his cowl to her own lap, he hesitated.  
  
Bleary grey eyes blinked up at him when he reached his hands towards her face and chased her tears away with the rounded backs of his talons. Molly whimpered and looked away, snatching one of his hands and squeezing it, trying not to think about the scars that she felt in his rough skin.  
  
“Thank you,” was all she could manage before releasing him and watching him head out the door.  
  
Alone once more in her apartment, Molly’s stomach churned and her mind raced through all of the horrible things happening at _Red Nova_. It wasn’t the first time things had taken a dark turn there, but out of everything that had happened during her last five years on the Citadel, this was by far the worst of it. It took every shred of willpower she had to keep herself from spiralling into panic again, and the moment she heard a knock at the door relief washed over her. She tapped her omni and the doors hissed open, revealing Vinth balancing an armful of takeout, his clothes hanging from the crook of his elbow.  
  
“I ran into both our delivery guys on the way back up,” he explained, stepping in and dropping the food on the counter, “I know you’re probably not feeling too hungry, but at least try to eat. Please. Even a weak biotic shouldn’t go this long without food.”  
  
She nodded and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, noting that the front of the Dappy tee was completely soaked with tears. All she could think was that he must have been humiliated facing two complete strangers dressed in the clothes she had given him. A wave of guilt crashed through her.

Finally Molly got off of her cot, but instead of heading to the food she headed to the bathroom, crashing into Vinth’s chest with a fierce hug the moment the door opened.  
  
“I’m sorry,” her voice was muffled from the way she had her face squashed into his carapace, the slightly floral perfume of detergent mingling with his own scent and tickling her nose, “I was an ass when we met and I’ve been an ass all day. I was relentless, like I was making up for years of having no friends to tease. I’m so sorry, Vinth, I really am. My dad was right about my social skills. I promise I’ll-”  
  
Two very strong hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her back. Vinth held her in front of him, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her once more, but this time she had to look away. She felt so awful about how incessantly she had picked on him when all he had tried to do was bring her some bloody coffee.  
  
“If I accept your apology will you stop beating yourself up?”  
  
She looked back up at him for a moment before nodding weakly and wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
“All is forgiven then,” he released her shoulders and stepped around her to reach the food, grabbing a container from her order and putting it in her hands, “You really should eat, then get some more sleep before you go to _Nova_. But, Moll…”  
  
She looked up at him, drinking in the intense eyes and the flicking mandibles. She suspected he was about to insist she reconsider her choice and felt herself getting defensive.  
  
“I’m not going to fight you on this, Moll,” he finally said, much to her surprise, “Spirits, I want to, but I know there’s no point. And to be honest? I admire the way you’re looking out for the people you work with. Just...be careful. Be careful and call if anything happens. I’ll make sure to be close by when you’re working, so call and when I see your number I’ll come find you.”

“I will, Vinth,” Molly popped open the food container and stared down at steaming, delicious noodles and veggies and wished she could work up an appetite. Her traitorous stomach was lurching just looking at it, enough so that she had to set the container down and sigh.

“Thanks,” she added, “For looking out for me I mean. The more I get to know you the more humiliated I feel about how I treated you when we first met. I really am sorry.”  
  
“That’s enough,” he crossed his arms and cocked a hip, shaking his head at her, “Kicking yourself like this isn’t a good look for you.”  
  
A faint smirk twitched in the corners of her mouth and Molly felt herself starting to relax. With her arms still hugging her chest, she looked up at her turian friend and asked in a teasing voice, “So you think I look good otherwise?”  
  
Vinth breathed out a laugh and shook his head, reaching out to hook a talon around a stray lock of her hair, letting it slide over his finger before he gingerly tucked it back behind her ear.   
  
“For a human, yeah. Sure.”

When he pulled his hand away again, Molly was left feeling...rattled. There was too much going on in her head. Worries for Leore and whether or not she would ever see the girl again were forefront in her mind, followed closely by that humming thread of fear that wound its way through her chest. Add the way Vinth was acting into the mix and she was exhausted just from feeling. And Vinth definitely had her feeling _something_, she just didn’t know what and didn’t want to unpack it with everything that was going on, because there was a lot to unpack there and it had all come on far too quickly.

The last of their time together flew by quickly. Since Molly had to rest and get ready for a long night at work, they decided to eat and split so she could catch a couple extra hours of sleep. She could only manage half-heartedly picking at her food despite Vinth looming over her like a tall, spiky nurse, the intensity of her eyes judging her for her lack of enthusiasm for self-care. He eased off eventually, however, and when she was alone in her apartment again, she felt the last of her energy disappear in one large whoosh.  
  
What a rollercoaster of a day she had had.   
  
Molly fell back on her cot, curling up into a tight ball and hugging her knees close to her again. It felt like ages before the ache in her chest and the twisting knots in her guts eased enough for her to finally doze off. Her sleep was restless, though, and by the time her alarm went off she felt even more exhausted than she had before.   
  
_It’s going to take a pound of makeup to cover this up._  
  
When she hauled herself out of bed and looked in her bathroom mirror her suspicions were confirmed. The bags under her eyes were dark purple, and there was this pinched look to her brows that she tried to smooth out with her thumbs but it just wasn’t working. After a long sigh she set to work weaving her hair into a complex up-do with braids and a high pony, then began painting her face. By the time she was done you wouldn’t suspect for a moment that she was anything less than perky and energized but for the way her shoulders sagged. She packed a bag with her work clothes, hauled on a pair of kitten heels, and headed out the door after firing off a quick message to Vinth to let him know she was on her way to_ Red Nova_.

  
He met up with her just outside the staff entrance, wearing fresh clothes (black from head to toe) and a look in his eyes so intense it was scorching. Molly tried to reassure him with a small smile but she knew she couldn’t convince him to be okay with her decision when she was trembling as violently as she was. She stayed very still when he reached out to give her shoulders a squeeze, keeping a straight face even when the buffed tips of his talons dug painfully into her skin.  
  
Twice he opened his mouth to speak and twice the words died on his tongue. It wasn’t until Molly stood on the tips of her toes to cup his face (which looked so large when she held it in her small hands) that he seemed to rein in the fury that was humming through him. His expression softened for the briefest moment before some kind of conflict overcame him again. It seemed like he wanted to tell her something, and hadn’t he tried to do just that before Valla had called her? Molly tilted her head to one side, curious, but Vinth just shook his head and decided against whatever he had been about to say. He placed his hands over hers and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  
  
“I’ll be nearby, Moll. Count on it,” he spoke in a low growl, “You should leave now or I won’t be able to let you go.”  
  


“Thanks, snowball,” Molly said with the best impression of good humour she could manage, “For being here, and for understanding that I have to do this. Promise me one thing?”  
  
He released her hands and folded his arms over his chest, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“Follow my lead. Even if you see something that makes you want to interfere, promise you’ll follow my lead.”  
  
When Vinth looked like he was about to argue, mouth and mandibles flying open all at once, she added, “I know these people. I’ve known them for years and I want to avoid things escalating into violence as best I can. Just trust me and follow my lead, okay?”  
  
It took a few agonizing seconds before Vinth nodded stiffly. Molly offered him one final, frail smile before turning on her heel and heading through the staff doors. She couldn’t look back, couldn’t risk losing her nerve before she went inside, but she could swear she heard the loud _thud _of a heavy boot slamming against a dumpster just as the doors closed behind her.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avinthus reflects on his current predicament in life. Angrily.
> 
> He also watches Molly dance.

_ What a fucking mess. _

Avinthos Flos prowled the alley behind _ Red Nova _ like an agitated varren, running his talons along each other like he was sharpening them for the kill. Even outside the club the heavy bass that was pounding through the speakers inside rattled through his carapace while his blood quickened with rage. He fisted his hands and heaved his booted foot into the side of the nearby dumpster again, growling as pain lanced through him and his target remained stoic despite the ugly dent he had left it with.

He was losing control. Losing control of his plan, his mission, and himself. _ Spirits, _ he had lost control of himself the moment Molly bloody Thorne had wrapped herself in silk and danced through the air on the raised, round stage of _ Nova _ like an alien fever dream come to life. He had come to the Citadel for a single, resolute purpose, one that had driven him from his duties towards Briggs’ cesspool of a nightclub. Then the moment he saw her all of the plans he had been making were uprooted.  
  
There was an ugly sort of irony in the fact that what he most admired in her, her violent and unwavering focus that propelled her out of her lot in life towards a wildly ambitious dream, was exactly the thing unraveling his own sense of purpose. He couldn’t make sense of it. Humans had always just been strange, soft aliens he had to deal with on rare occasions and who were typically hostile thanks to the lingering tensions from Relay 314. Never in his life could he have imagined being so fascinated by one, yet Molly was a force of nature he was drawn towards like some great bloody magnet.  
  
By some twist of fate she hadn’t been there the first few times he had shown up at _ Red Nova _ to case the joint. He needed access to information and a reason to be one of the few turian regulars at a club run by an ex-Alliance psychopath who wasn’t shy about how much he hated anyone with mandibles and a carapace. Leore was supposed to be that reason. She seemed to be the most gullible, the easiest to manipulate of Valla’s girls, and he had actually caught her staring at him more than once. He figured if he paid her a little bit of attention then nobody would notice him going to a skin bar every night and not bothering to look twice at any of the skin.  
  
Then along came Molly Thorne, who soared over a cheap stage like a creature out of fiction, moving in impossible ways and transforming that tragic pit into something that sparked a feeling in him he had barely known before: wonder. He watched her, transfixed, and on the night he had decided he would finally approach the sweet-faced young asari girl he found himself walking instead towards the human with the button nose stuck in the glow of her omnitool. He walked to her full of confidence, then realized the moment he opened his mouth that he had no idea what to say to someone so alien to him and made a babbling idiot of himself.  
  
Which he continued to do, at first because years of service in the military could not have prepared him for small talk at a bar with an alien woman he couldn’t take his eyes off of for some ridiculous reason. He was a soldier, a damned good one, and never once had he felt unsure of himself. He had always been a model turian, enviable and desirable, with impressive height and a long, sleek fringe that almost always caused strangers to do a double-take. Avinthus Flos, the soldier with the unbreakable stride who turned killing into an art form, the man whose gun was his paintbrush and who dominated every task set before him with singular purpose, was reduced to a simpering mess by a tiny human stripper.  
  
What the hell was happening?  
  
He fixed his cold, hateful stare on the door Molly had left through, finally unclenching his fists as he made his way out of the filthy alleyway. He knew what was happening. He was losing his mind, maddened by rage and grief that was spiralling out of control. He hadn’t lied to Molly when he said he had come to the Citadel from Palaven, even if he hadn’t exactly been living there. The truth was that Vinth had gone home for his brother’s funeral.

Veritas Flos was the oddball of the family, a kid with a delicate heart who wanted, of all things, to be a _ musician _ . He wanted to write and sing and play music, he wanted to be a _ dancer _, even. Anything but a soldier. Spirits, he was a strange creature to come from such a long line of respected soldiers. He was a charismatic little ball of energy, though, and somehow that sort of life just seemed right for him.

Still, their parents always struggled to accept his vision for the future. Vinth, however, supported his brother’s strange desires even if he never understood them. Never understood him. Veri was good at what he did and his joy was infectious. He belonged on a stage, no matter how much their parents might have doubted that, and eventually they came to an agreement that they would support him so long as he saw his public service through until the end. All he had to do was make it through that and he was free to chase his dreams.

So when Avinthus got the news that his brother was gunned down during a small sentry assignment for a shipment of specialized weapons heading from Palaven to the Citadel, something in him snapped. He tried to shoulder it silently, but so much of the good in him died with his brother that he just switched off, going through the motions until a bad call of his resulted in civilian casualties during a slaver raid. His CO sent him back to Palaven to attend Veri’s funeral and clear his head, but all that did was set him drifting again. The funeral had given him no closure, so he tried to use his family’s pull to get access to the reports and find out everything he could. From all angles it looked like nav points for the transport were leaked from within the Hierarchy by somebody that Avinthus wanted to see exposed, shamed, and brought to justice. There was a hidden, ugly part of him that wanted him to kill the bastard with his own two hands, but he wasn’t some mindless killer. No, Avinthus Flos was for the cause through and through. The fuck-up whose leak got his brother killed would be found and made to face the full force of turian justice dished out by someone with a cooler head than his.

It took a great deal of persuasion, but Avinthus eventually got permission from his CO to work alongside the unit investigating the theft until the evidence led them to the Citadel. Everything went to shit when C-Sec took over. They wanted him to believe the investigation had dried up, but there was something fishy going on. It wasn’t hard to smell the corruption off some of the criminals in blue and a nagging voice in the back of Avinthus’ head said that he would be stonewalled no matter what he chose to do. Someone was protecting Briggs, he just knew it.  
  
So he scrubbed off his face paint, hauled on some civvies, and decided to handle things on his own. There was one big problem with that, though: Avinthus Flos was a soldier, not a bloody detective. If not for the help of one of C-Sec’s tech specialists, an asari named Filana who had lost their own sister to criminals not long ago, he would have left the Citadel furious and unfulfilled a week into his investigation. Or worse. Their bugs had armed Vinth with heaps of data and recorded conversations that would end Briggs for good, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted the leak, and he knew he could get it from the Cat 6 psychopath if he just pushed enough.  
  
So he kept phoning in “anonymous tips” through Filana, which meant C-Sec would be there for every arms deal that went down under Briggs’ command. Briggs’ men always got away, of course, which Vinth took as further evidence to prove his theory of something fishy happening within C-Sec’s ranks. How could they _ just _ miss their target with every raid otherwise? There had to be someone playing both sides, but he hardly cared about that. All he wanted was to find the person responsible for his brother’s death. So he kept phoning in those tips, kept watching C-Sec collect every black market weapon that passed through Briggs’ channels, and watched as the “LT” spiralled out of control. He’d swoop in with an offer for a deal the moment Briggs looked ready to crack from his paranoia.  
  
Not the best laid plan, but it was all he had. And it was going well so long as he ignored the fact that Briggs was already snapping under the pressure and taking it out on everyone around him, which meant he was putting Molly in danger. Leore had already almost died. Spirits, she might actually _ be _ dead considering it was Briggs’ paid “doctors” that had her. Every step forward in his plan had consequences he wasn’t sure how to handle, and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He had too much of an emotional investment in things now that the entire situation felt like a steaming pile of shit.  
  
Molly was a distraction, but _ spirits _ she was also a breath of fresh air. Getting to know her was the one ray of light in the festering shithole that was the Citadel, but it was also driving him to confliction. Vinth fisted his hands at his side again as he pushed his way into _ Red Nova _ , the music now washing over him with its mind-numbing bass and empty lyrics. Everything here was sticky, half the patrons were fucked up on hallex, and the nervous energy that had the staff running around with fake smiles and trembling hands made it difficult for him to stop the angry thrumming of his subvocals. At least nobody here could really hear them.  
  
The small human he was intrigued by was already in position on stage, moving along her silk so gracefully it was hard for him to tear his eyes away. She was the only dancer who didn’t seem to be looking over her shoulder expecting trouble, but he knew her well enough by now that he could tell she wasn’t on her game. Normally when she danced (on the silks or on a pole), Molly Thorne lost herself in the motion. She’d close her eyes and move through the music, only bothering to open them when she needed to find her bearings on stage all while wearing a small smile that was far removed from the insincere flash of teeth she flaunted while working a table.

Tonight there was a determined set to her jaw and her eyes were everywhere, burning with intensity he had never seen in her before. He could tell she was watching over things, worried that trouble might spring up out of all of this tension. She looked out over her people with the watchful eye of a ferocious den-mother.

He was as proud of her as he was furious with himself for causing all of this.  
  
_ Fuck _ . _ I can’t afford to lose steam now. _

Vinth finally tore his eyes away and swept his gaze over the crowd as best he could. The design of _ Red Nova _ made it so that only the window in Briggs’ office on the second floor or the top of the round stage provided a line of sight for the entire club. If it wouldn’t be too conspicuous for him to prowl around the bar all night keeping an eye out for trouble he would do that. Instead he ordered a dextro drink and shouldered his way through the messy crowd until he found an empty table where he could sit, watch, and do his best to avoid making any more trouble for Molly than he already had.

The more tangled up he got in her, the harder it would be for him to chase after his end goal. He knew that was why he had to harden himself to her situation, but the foul taste in his mouth said otherwise. He didn’t want to see her hurt. Watching her cry had felt like a knife in the gut and the fact that he was at the root of her suffering was a cruel twist of the blade, especially after the day they had shared. It had been peaceful in a way he hadn’t known for years, but the memory made him feel restless. She had felt so small and soft draped across him, her fluttering warmth scored into his memories so deeply he could still feel it.

Avinthus Flos had never given humans more than a passing thought, yet this one scorched through him so violently he was losing his way. If he let himself dwell on it, he would guess that it had something to do with the fact that her free spirit gave him an opportunity to understand the sort of life his dead brother was so determined to make for himself. If he _ really _ got into it, he knew he’d realize that the way she never hesitated to put him in his place just did it for him, and were she not an alien he’d probably have dragged her back to his hotel by now.  
  
A low growl began to rumble deep in the turian’s chest and he had to silence himself before he made a spectacle of himself. His gaze started moving through the crowd again, landing on faces he didn’t recognize. They weren’t patrons, that was easy enough to suss out, and that meant there was something in the here and now for him to focus on.

The armoured humans shouldered their way through the drunken crowd towards the staff doors with scowls on their faces, no doubt to make their way to the LT’s office. Once more Vinth’s gaze flicked towards Molly, lingering for a moment to catch her body plummeting towards the stage while the silk unwound. For a moment he thought his heart might give out on him, but she stopped just short of a tragedy wearing a triumphant smirk that softened his cold expression for a brief moment.

_ Spirits _ .  
  
A quick sweep of the throng of aliens in _ Nova _ told him that everyone paying attention to her felt the same. One asari had even leapt out of their seat clutching their chest, completely ignoring the human woman with short-cropped hair gyrating her backside on the tabletop in front of them. Meanwhile, Molly was hanging above the stage with her back arched and her arms held aloft, looking very much like a winged creature poised for flight as the long trails of silk wrapped around her wrists billowed on either side of her.  
  
It was a clever distraction from the tense atmosphere. Molly was pushing herself to make a spectacle this time, rather than moving quietly in the background of the bar’s more gritty scenery. There was a desperation in the way she moved, her eyes never leaving the strangers who were prowling through _ Nova _ ready to make trouble. What were they here for? What did they know? They were rough, too rough as they shoved aside dancers and bar staff alike. The sole batarian who worked here, a pleasant fellow who politely bussed tables without ever making eye contact, got knocked back on his ass by them. They disappeared shortly after.  
  
_ Good riddance. _  
  
Vinth looked to catch Molly’s reaction and found himself clenching his glass so hard he could feel it groaning between his talons. It was brief, but her face had blanched. He had seen it happen to a few humans since coming to the Citadel, and it was usually because they were taking a punch to the gut or worse. The massive turian released his glass and gripped his table, talons biting into the thin plastic veneer and causing fractures to bloom from the pressure points like weeds. She was pushing herself too hard. Whatever Briggs had done to her hadn’t healed and she was flying across that stage with a vengeance. It was no wonder her old wounds were hurting again.  
  
“Easy there big guy. I don’t want you breaking my table.”  
  
It took every shred of control Vinth had not to reach for and crush the hand on his shoulder. The voice coming from behind him was familiar enough to keep him somewhat level-headed, but his subvocals shifted and thrummed with a heated rage.

His pale, burning gaze flicked up and spotted Valla, a tight set to her jaw. He didn’t react.  
  
“She shouldn’t be here,” was all he said before his eyes found the dancer again.  
  
“Where should she be then, huh?” the muscular asari challenged him, folding her arms over her chest and causing her small breasts to squash together in the open panel of her dress, “With you, locked away safe to study and satisfy whatever twisted fantasies are going on in your oversized head?”  
  
_ No _ .  
  
A small part of him _ did _ like that idea, though. It was an ugly part of him, but he couldn’t deny that it was there. Still, capturing a flame in a jar would just snuff it out. He wanted to watch her blaze. Spirits he hated to admit it, but it was true.  
  
“She should be wherever the hell she _ wants _ to be,” Vinth struggled to keep his tone flat, “Not where she has to be to pay the bills.”  
  
Valla bristled and narrowed her eyes at him, “She’s not here tonight for the credits.”  
  
“No, she’s not,” he agreed. In one fluid motion he finished his drink and stood up from his table, towering over the large asari. Between his elongated fringe, his massive chest and shoulders, and the fact that he stood well above seven feet, most aliens cowed when he stood at his full height. Hell, plenty of turians did, too. Valla, however, just stood her ground and glared up at him.  
  
Vinth gave his mandibles a haughty flick, resting a hand on his cocked hip before he continued and said, “She’s here because she’s loyal and fierce as hell. But if she gets hurt-”  
  
“Only over my dead body will another of my girls get hurt,” the asari promised, squeezing her fists so hard her knuckles cracked. Vinth believed her, and admittedly he was impressed. Valla, however, was not done.  
  
“Listen, I don’t like you. You stare at her like you want to rip her into ribbons with those talons of yours and feast on one half while you worship the other. It’s fucking creepy, but for whatever reason she’s warming up to you and wants you around.”  
  
Vinth’s brow plates fell heavy over his intense gaze, his mood somehow souring further with every word the rough asari spoke. She wasn’t wrong. Something about him had come undone since Veri died, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing just how fucked up he was. His talons twitched and he picked at the loose threads in his sleeve to distract himself from the spiral his thoughts wanted to plunge into.  
  
“You’re not all bad, I’ve seen that, but I don’t like the rest of it. We’ve got enough to deal with here. You cross a line with her and I’ll turn you into fucking soup.”

He didn’t say anything, just matched her glare until one of the bartenders flagged her down and she left him to stew. 

Valla was right to mistrust him, of course. Nothing he was doing in _ Red Nova _ was good for her or “her girls.” And with Molly, well...even for an alien, she was easy to read. Molly Thorne tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, baring her soul for the world to see, which made it easy enough to read her. Even for a turian who’d hardly spent any time around humans she was like an open book. It...made it easy to get into her good graces.

He tried to ignore the guilt that sat in his stomach like a weight as he recalled the way her guard dropped when he first met her, his unexpected bumbling chasing away whatever fear she felt when an alien more than two feet taller than her loomed over her by the roundbar. His talons absentmindedly picked at his cuffs again while he thought about how easy it had been to win her over after that. He just had to keep playing the bumbling fool, offering small kindnesses where he could. To be fair, not all of it was fake, but the Vinth she knew and the true Avinthus Flos were two very different people. It made him sick.

The rest of his night was spent fuming in his seat, furious with himself and Valla for kicking him into a guilt-spiral. He tried to ignore it and look out for trouble while he drummed his talons on the damaged plastic tabletop, but his thoughts always found their way back to the little human dancer.

At least his anger kept him awake and alert so he could keep an eye on her. He knew he should leave her alone, both to protect her and the duty he had to his brother. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. She was in danger because of the way he was needling Briggs and he was terrified that leaving her alone meant he would be...what was that human saying he had learned? He was terrified that leaving her alone meant he would be throwing her to the wolves.

He didn’t have the chance to figure out which course of action regarding the human was best that night, though. The pale turian watched as Molly finally made her exit, walking down the stairs that wrapped around the raised roundstage. She paused briefly to exchange words with the quiet batarian behind the bar before stepping back into the thinning crowd, pulling her long hair over her shoulders to comb her fingers through it. His talons twitched as he recalled the scent of her soap, the soap she used in her hair. It was sweet and fruity, with an herby punch that reminded him of the plants at _ Len’s _ .  
  
He quickly stood and began to weave through the crowd, moving with more grace than someone his size should. Ignoring the warning glare from Valla, the turian quickly closed the distance between himself and the tiny human he was so drawn to. He had spent all night telling himself to hang back, to avoid getting attached, and yet the moment her heeled foot stepped off the stage he was rushing to her side. He told himself it was from a sense of obligation, that he owed it to her to act like some sort of guard varren since it was his fault the staff at _ Nova _ was under so much heat.  
  
Avinthus forgot all of that reasoning the moment she turned and saw him approaching, managing to show him a small smile despite the way she was cradling her ribs. _ Spirits _ . Some small, sweet part of him that had been drowned in rage and grief for months ached to see her hurting like that, especially when she was doing her best to forget her pain just to reassure him. He knew that the longer he spent around her the harder it would be to step away. He knew that he owed his brother justice, because nobody else seemed interested, and yet…  
  
“Why the glum face, snowball?”  
  
He breathed a chuckle, eyes softening as he looked from her face down to her chest, where she was holding ribs he was certain were bruised or broken. There was no resisting this strange, alien woman. The answer he gave her didn’t come by way of words; instead he gently pushed aside her small arm, mindful of his talons as he rested a hand on her side. She winced from the pain, but soon the heat from his touch soothed the ache and he felt the tension ease from her a little. If he could help her this much, that was all that mattered for now. It wasn’t absolution for his lies or his sins against her, but it was all he had to give.  
  
Something brushed against his other hand, startling him out of his thoughts. Vinth’s mandibles flicked and he looked down to watch Molly’s thin fingers weave through his. They fit imperfectly, five and three fingers. She was shaking. When he glanced up, he realized that he couldn’t tell if she was furious or terrified. Probably both.  
  
“Thanks,” her voice was barely audible above the din, “For sticking around. You’re a good friend, Vinth.”  
  
_ Fuck _ . _ Don’t say that. _

He felt a black wave of guilt swallow him and tried to pull away, tried to get away from her before he could make things worse. Molly was a strong-willed woman, though, and she grabbed his arms to hold him in place, gazing up at him with such emotion that he felt his guts churn. There was no escaping her, not when she looked at him like _ that _. Her grey eyes looked so much warmer than he had ever seen them. He was completely at her mercy.

_ I don’t deserve a look like that _. He thought the words but couldn’t speak them aloud. Vinth was too distracted by the dancer’s hand reaching up to cup his face and pull it close to hers. He could feel her breath on him, could smell her sweat and her soap. It was too much.

Before Vinth realized what was happening, both of her hands held his face in a delicate grip, a thumb brushing along the plate beneath one of his icy eyes as she guided him down close to her. He still had one of his own hands rested on her side, and when he leaned into her touch so they were at eye level he experimentally ran it down over her ribs to rest on the swell of her hip.  
  
“Vinth,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze so all he could see of her eyes were her thick lashes, “Briggs’ paranoia is infectious. I’m scared.”  
  
An empathetic trill flooded his subvocals, and even though she couldn’t interpret what he was saying he saw her react. She could pick up on traces of what he said to her without speaking the words, something he had noticed early on in their encounters. It was often a subtle reaction, but he was always watching her so intently that it was hard for him to miss.

Avinthus wanted so badly for Molly to feel safe. He gave her hip a reassuring squeeze, but the sharp breath she drew through her nose had him worrying he might have hurt her with his clawed grip. When he looked down to see he hadn’t, in fact, cut into her, something in the back of his mind clicked.  
  
_ Oh. _  
  
Her cool skin had grown warm, her breath tight. That slight part of her lips as she peered into his blue eyes with her own hooded gaze was something he had seen before. Not in a human, but in an asari, and part of him wondered… Well, he knew what it meant in _ one _ alien species, and humans shared so many similarities with asari that... Well, this didn’t help with his predicament.  
  
_ Do her a favour and leave her _ .  
  
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly instead, “I’ll walk you home.”  
  
“And will you stay after that?”  
  
He froze, then pulled back to look down into her grey eyes as though staring into them would help him understand her completely. Sure, all his time spent watching and learning the subtleties of her expressions had helped him get to know her (and worse), but this was new territory he had no idea how to navigate. He would have to tread carefully, he didn’t want to scare her off even if it would be better for both of them if he did.  
  
Looking into her eyes just made him feel more lost than before. There _ was _ fear there, but there was also...well, he wasn’t sure. Fear was easy, but he felt like she was skipping between countless other emotions he was too afraid and too uncertain to name. He wanted to know them, though.  
  
_No_, he demanded of himself.  
  
“Of course.”


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly wants to forget everything and just feel for a little bit, so she gives in to very primitive needs.
> 
> Breathplay and rough sex in this chapter, in case that's not your thing.

Ever since she had moved to the Citadel to live in her tiny box of an apartment, Molly had worked hard to keep her impulsivity in check. Back on Earth, she had been a very different person. Charismatic, lively, always seeking a good time. She was a veritable wild-fire, the life of the party and a delight to be around. She couldn’t afford that now, though, not when her entire life hinged on her success in school and her placement in a good xenomedicine hospital on the Citadel.   
  
Standing in front of Vinth and asking him back to her apartment was like being that impulsive kid again. She didn’t know what drove her to that moment, if it was fear, loneliness, or just a part of her past rearing its ugly head for validation and a chance to express itself. All she really knew was that the second the words were spoken there was no taking them back. She wished for him to say yes as desperately as she wanted him to rescue her from falling too deep into whatever she had kickstarted by saying no. She was even going to take the invite back, except the feeling of his hand sliding down her waist and onto her hip summoned butterflies to her stomach. The way it felt when he squeezed it made it worse. Her skin felt flushed and the warm flutter in her stomach helped her to forget about the ache in her ribs for a moment. Helped her forget about Leore.   
  
Ideas started swarming about the things they could do once they were in her apartment if he decided to stay with her. She looked up at him, lips parted, and watched his eyes dart away to wander over every curve and swell of her body. How convenient for him that they were all on display thanks to her outrageously tight and revealing “uniform.” Somehow, despite the fact that she was fully clothed, Molly felt more naked beneath his intense gaze than she ever had before. And she’d been caught naked in front of complete strangers once after an unfortunate skinny dipping incident when she was young, back on Earth.   
  
“Of course.”   
  
Something shifted between them with those words. Something animal began to wake in her, clawing at the walls of her self-control incessantly. It demanded she move and change out of her work clothes to lead him back to her place, so she could satisfy a part of her that had been buried in work and stress for years now. But did he want the same thing?   
  
More importantly, since when had she started wishing for Avinthus Flos to walk her home and tear her clothes off? Hell, it wasn’t long ago she was wishing for him to leave her the hell alone and keep far, far away from her. It had to be a serious defect that drove her to pull such a dramatic shift so quickly, that allowed him to easily slip past her guard and win her over. For a moment she wondered if he was just playing her like a fiddle, but that didn’t seem likely. The bumbling lug of a turian didn’t have that in him.    
  
“Vinth,” she said quietly, stirring him from whatever thoughts had distracted him. She released his face from her grasp and grabbed his hands, glancing at the sticky floor of  _ Red Nova  _ while he straightened his back to stand at his full height. Suddenly she was very self-conscious.   
  
“Mm.”   
  
The tone of his flanging voice tickled her far too easily.   
  
“I need to go...shower.”   
  
His eyes snapped to hers, searching. No doubt he was wondering what she meant. Emphasizing a shower before dragging someone home probably meant the same to turians that it did to humans: she wanted to be clean for his visit for wholly unsavoury reasons. She met his gaze and one side of her mouth twitched up: reassurance that he hadn’t misunderstood.   
  
After letting her hands linger on his for a few moments more, Molly slipped away, stubbornly avoiding Valla’s disapproving glare. The asari still didn’t like Vinth, but that was her problem, not Molly’s.   
  
The shower was brief but thorough. Sex was an itch Molly hadn’t scratched in a very long time and the hunger now burning through her demanded efficiency. She hadn’t let anyone close enough to her to invite them into her bed since she left Earth, so the minute she felt Vinth’s large, taloned hand on her side something old and primal woke in her. Something that hungered so ravenously she could barely braid her hair and dress herself for how excited she was. It was pathetic that one stray thought of sex had inspired such an intense level of desire in her, but it  _ had _ been a very long time.   
  
_ Hell. _   
  
She didn’t even know if he’d  _ want _ a human. She was alien, soft, and kind of a bitch to him since they’d met. The entire notion had the potential to turn into something terribly awkward, but that didn’t stop her traitor of a body from scorching with need for him. It was humiliating how wet she was just thinking about it, a fact that make her squirm uncomfortably where she sat. The squirming did not help.   
  
Once Molly was finally ready she found Vinth leaning against the roundbar with his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted down so he could stare hard at the sticky floor. He was paying no mind to the drug addicts and drunks still milling about, even after one of them bumped into him. There was a dark cloud hanging over the massive turian, dark enough to give her pause. She was used to that intense and searching gaze being trained on her, and for a moment she pitied the floor. Whatever was going on inside his head, though, fell away when he looked up and caught her eye. He was quiet, but he practically jumped to stand upright again when she drew close. Whether it was from nerves, excitement, or something else was hard to tell.

“Shall we?” she asked, fussing with her damp braid.

He answered with a deep, humming bass tone, slowing his stride to match her gait while she led them out of  _ Red Nova _ . The sound he was making crashed through her like a firestorm.

Once they had both crossed the threshold of the club a weight seemed to lift from both their shoulders and Molly felt a seed of guilt taking root. Just hours ago she was panicking for Leore, a sweet woman with a kind heart who’d nearly been beaten to death. Who, if Molly was to be honest with herself, might have already died, hooked up to god-knows-what in some dark room that Briggs’ pet doctors had rigged up for her. It seemed wrong to be so fixated on bringing an alien back to her apartment just to pop a cork that was long overdue to be popped, especially when none of the  _ Nova _ women (Valla included) knew if Leore was alive or dead. Briggs’ shadow hung heavy over all of them, drowning them in fear and worry.

Maybe that was why Molly wanted to do something impulsive. Dragging a guy back to her bed was something she had control over, it was something that would thrill her and make her feel alive when life felt like something she could lose at any moment.    
  
The tangle of twisted thoughts milling about in the dancer’s head were cut loose when the feeling of a large, three-fingered hand pressing into the small of her back dragged her back to reality. She almost sighed her relief when she relaxed into the touch but the intake of breath made her wince. Vinth immediately tugged and brought her in close to him, taloned hand flexing protectively as a calming, trilling purr sounded deep within his carapace. The sound chased away her worried thoughts, and despite the guilt she did her best to live in the moment for now.

She felt the heat rolling off of him and pressed closer to ward off the chill from her damp hair, trying not to overthink the meaning behind his spiking temperature. It was typical for a turian to run hot, but there was something more going on here. Curious, she tried to sneak a glance in his direction to see if she could read what was happening in his head, to see if it matched her rampant imagination.

He caught her looking.

They both stopped walking for a moment, neither sure what to say until his free hand wrapped around her as well and suddenly her entire torso was within his taloned hold. Were his hands always so large? A small sigh escaped her, traitorous voice joining her traitorous body in how readily it screamed to the world that she wanted Vinth. It was such a surreal thing to feel.

Neither one of them was saying anything, neither one of them was sure  _ what _ to say, so Molly made a decision and broke away, grabbing her turian companion’s arm so she could lead him along

What a funny pair they must make to passersby; a tired, small human with wet hair bracing her ribs with one hand and dragging a towering, snowy-white turian alongside her with the other. He was bent over at the waist, stumbling from the unexpected force of her grip while his mandibles flared wide with surprise. They did catch a few stares, but nothing more than the tired glares of folks going to and from work who didn’t appreciate a spectacle pulling them from the walking rituals of their daily commute. Thankfully the trip to Molly’s tiny box of an apartment was a short one, and after a quiet elevator ride rife with tension they were finally there.

Vinth’s fidgeting began the moment the door hissed closed behind them. He fiddled with the cuffs of his long, dark shirt, and all Molly could think of was what she’d find beneath the fabric.

“Are you sure...Moll, I don’t have to stay.”   
  
The words broke her train of thought and she looked up into his pale eyes, the intensity gone from them for once. He looked tired, guilty even. Why there should be any guilt in him she couldn’t guess, but he avoided looking straight at her.   
  
“You don’t,” she agreed, his shift in mood making her feel more cautious than she had back at  _ Nova _ , “but I’d like for you to stay.”   
  
Avinthus made an anguished sound in the back of his throat before he closed the distance between them in one long step, fists clenched so tight it was a wonder his talons didn’t slice open his palms. He reached for her, fingers twitching before he snatched them away again. He was so hesitant to touch, so hesitant to reach out now that they were here. She watched him come to a decision, shoulders relaxing as he pulled her braid into his hands and pulled it towards him, twisting the plaited hair in his grip and inspecting it thoughtfully. That wasn’t how she expected things to kick off, but she wasn’t surprised. The aliens in her class who weren’t disgusted by her hair were fascinated by it, too, and this was a good way to start slow.   
  
With more dexterity than she would have given him credit for, Vinth tugged her hair elastic away and began to coax her hair loose. The plates of his nose shifted slightly and she heard him draw a deep breath, lifting strands of wet hair towards his face. Apparently he was interested in the scent of her strawberry-basil shampoo, so she just watched on as he went about playing with her hair. It wasn’t how she had hoped their evening would begin, but the gentleness of his movements and the tender look in his normally intense eyes had her weak in the knees.

Soon enough he felt her eyes on him and realized what he was doing. 

“Sorry,” he blurted out, an undercurrent in his tone that gave her the impression he was somewhat worried about the impression he was making, “I...It’s so long, I just wanted-”

“It’s fine,” she waved him off, bringing her hands to rest on his waist and pulling him towards her. His trilling intonation made her smile gently, but that smile quickly fell into a small “oh” when he released her hair and took her face in his talons. The sharp tips tracing down her neck sparked a rush of yearning through her stronger than anything she had felt so far that evening. There was something delicious to be found in the melding of pleasure and danger, a thrill that had her nipples stiffening and her fingers digging into Vinth’s tough hide. Offhandedly, she wondered if he would pay enough attention to her  _ flesh sacks _ to notice the very physical reaction she was having.   
  
He hissed, pulling her forehead close to press against his.   
  
“You smell good,” his voice was low and rough, flat nose bumping against hers. She grinned when she felt it scrunch and planted a small kiss on one of his mouth plates, amused by the confused sound that vibrated in his throat.   
  
“Sorry,” a small, breathless laugh followed on the heels of her own apology, “We do that, humans. I won’t...if you don’t-”   
  
Her words fell into a pathetic whimper when Vinth tilted her head back, thumb tracing down the line of her neck before he pressed down lightly, experimentally. When her lips parted in a moan at the pressure, his tongue found hers.  _ This _ was how she wanted things to start.

She wasn’t prepared for the hot, metallic taste of Avinthus’ mouth. It reminded her of hunting with her mother back on earth - the scent of gun smoke from her family’s vintage rifle was so strangely similar to the taste of him. And the  _ length _ . His tongue could coil around hers like a snake strangling its prey and it did, leaving her helplessly gripping his waist and wondering if the thrum in the air of her apartment was her own excitement or Vinth’s wordless communication, indecipherable to her human ears.

She couldn’t help but wonder what other things that dextrous tongue of his was capable of. Just thinking of the possibilities made her sex throb deliciously, her carnal appetites making her skin tingle and her panties pool. Judging by the low rumbling in his chest, Vinth sensed her mounting needs, likely due to his keen sense of smell. She paused for a moment, a wicked thread of humiliation creeping through her until the turian’s thumb skirted to the side of her neck, mirrored by his primary digit. He withdrew his tongue and looked at her, pale eyes burning with a question.   
  
_ Oh. _   
  
She knew what that meant, and her humiliation was promptly drowned out by a lustful gasp. That was all the answer he needed.

Her gasping was cut short with the slightest squeeze from the turian stooping over her with his mouth hanging open to expose the hungry flicking of his tongue. The Molly from just a few weeks ago would have been terrified and told her to run, but that Molly was nowhere to be found here. Besides, Vinth knew what he was doing. He wasn’t overpowering her violently, he wasn’t hurting her, he was  _ controlling _ her. When she drew her next hissing breath it was because Avinthus allowed it, and something about that  _ really _ did it for her. After all, she was always in control of her life, her studies...everything. Relinquishing control to someone else, someone kind and attractive in his own, alien way…

“Fuck,” she whimpered when he released his grip again. This time his hands began to wander, tracing the curved backs of his talons over her collarbone, her shoulders, and even her breasts. Vinth’s exploration paused, a thoughtful humming of dual-toned vocals cutting through their little chorus of staccatoed breaths when his talons glanced over her nipples and she tensed.    
  
Snippets of a conversation that felt like it happened ages ago now flashed through both of their heads. Apparently no longer disgusted by her human flesh sacks, Vinth chuckled deep in his carapace and dropped low enough to cup Molly’s ass and lift her so she could wrap her muscular legs around his waist. It took a moment to get herself arranged in a way that didn’t have any of his plates digging into her uncomfortably, but once she was settled Vinth’s head burrowed into her neck and he breathed deep before letting his tongue graze over her soft skin.   
  
“ _ Mmmnn _ ,” was the cleverest thing she could think to say in response. It was hard to string words together with a rough tongue on her neck and talons pricking the soft skin of her ass through her leggings. She wriggled in his grasp until he caught the hint and squeezed, the bite of his claws stinging delightfully.    
  
Vinth carried her over to her counter, where she shoved aside dishes and a data pad so he could set her down and step back, eyes roaming over every inch of her. She sensed his hesitation and tugged on the front ridge of his cowl, pulling him close until his face rested in the space between her neck and shoulder. Her hands felt so small against him, so frail, but she still dug her fingers into his neck and dragged them up until she found the soft spot below his fringe. He froze, and she  _ pressed _ .   
  
The turian’s reaction was immediate and intense. His jaw and mandibles flew open, hands gripping her thighs and teeth skimming over her collarbone before he caught himself and stopped just short of biting into her. Molly’s heart was pounding, her breath catching in her throat until she felt him pulling away again.   
  
“Vinth-”   
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled, taking hold of her wrists, “I shouldn’t, I’m not-”   
  
“ _ Vinth. _ ”   
  
Something in her voice gave him pause, so she swiftly took advantage of his hesitation and used her legs to pull him in close against her. As the silence between them grew she rested her head just to the side of his keel, hands finding the hem of his shirt and slipping beneath to run her nails along the rough hide of his abdomen. She could feel the tension that kept his muscles taut and bunched beneath her touch, could feel his chest stilling as he held his breath.

Sliding her hands up along his back, skimming over hide and plate alike, she pulled him forward so she could crane her head up and kiss his neck, then thought better of it and nipped him instead. He was more likely to actually feel that, at least. The sensation of her blunt teeth clipping his rough skin startled him. Once she was sure he was listening, Molly sighed and nuzzled him lightly before saying, “If I’m not afraid, then you really shouldn’t be.”

A long pause followed, then, “Maybe you should be afraid.”   
  
Thin, dark brows fell together and knotted at his tone. It wasn’t threatening, but there was a darkness to his words. An edge.   
  
“Well,” the dancer shrugged aside her worries and pulled back, looking up at her glum companion with a smirk on her lips, “I think I can handle my own, snowball.”   
  
Finally he chuckled, reaching for her hair and toying with it, “I believe it.”   
  
The tension faded away just like that and once more Molly was running her nails up the back of Vinth’s neck, this time eliciting a low purr deep within his carapace. He let his weight tip forward until their foreheads were touching, his mouth parting so he could run his long, blue tongue along her lips.   
  
“You taste good,” he said softly, trilling when she smiled.   
  
“I’m two for two, then,” she laughed, “Take off your shirt?”   
  
Her request caught him off guard, but after a few moments he complied and pulled it off in one swift motion, leaving his arms and torso bare for her to admire. His hide and plates were all as pale as freshly-fallen snow, though the heat that radiated from him was a stark contrast to that visual. She looked over the impressive physique, the expertly toned muscles and the gallery of scars on display speaking of his military background. She looked from his body to his eyes before reaching for the fastenings of his pants while he watched, his pale blue gaze burning into her as he watched on.   
  
“Wait,” he said, causing her to still the motion of her hands. She looked up at him, feeling her skin flush under the intensity of his gaze when he mandibles flicked and he continued with a command of his own.   
  
“Take off your shirt.”   
  
His words echoed hers but the tone was completely different. There was authority there, a demand she felt compelled to satisfy. Grinning, she pulled her light tunic over her head and tossed it, then quickly removed her bra and let it drop. If she left the clasp to Vinth, after all, he’d probably just end up slicing the thing apart.

His mandibles flicked again as he took his turn to admire her, drawing a deep breath that lifted his chest before he exhaled. Molly looked on, watching as the part of his  _ ostium _ that was visible twitched. She didn’t need a xenomedicine degree to tell her what twitching cock-plates on a turian meant. Smirking, she quickly unfastened his pants and recalled the disgust he had been so vocal about when they last discussed her breasts. It sure seemed like he had changed his tune.

Now, with her chest exposed and in plain sight, he was reaching for her breasts and experimentally massaging a nipple with the rough pad of his thumb, his pleasure audible in his flanging vocals.   
  
“Ah,” she breathed when he teased her nipples, then eagerly pushed his pants down and away from his  _ ostium _ . A hungering snarl escaped Vinth’s mouth plates, then, and he squeezed her nipples hard, tugging firmly when she teased a finger along his shuddering cock-plates.   
  
The tapered, indigo tip of his shaft slipped out as his  _ ostium _ flexed open. Vinth yanked a hand away from Molly to slam his fist against the cupboard above her head, his mouth cracking open and tongue falling out as he began to pant. She knew he was struggling to keep himself from treating her the way he would any turian woman, fearful of hurting her, and that was a nice thought, but…   
  
“I already told you, Vinth. I’m not afraid.”   
  
Their eyes connected and the dancer felt her hair stand on end when she saw the animal hunger in him. The sounds rumbling in his chest sounded predatory, like he was some mindless beast about to go for the kill. Except he wasn’t. Avinthus wasn’t some mindless hunter, a fact made clear when the hand that still rested on her breast moved to gently cradle her face so he could sweep a thumb along her jaw.   
  
“You want me?” he asked, not from self-doubt, but because he had to be sure. She didn’t sense any uncertainty in him when he asked again, “You want this?”   
  
Another smirk. Molly rubbed her thumb over the tip of his cock and whispered, “Yes.”   
  
Groaning, Vinth fell forward so his head rested on the cupboard, reaching up to ball his fists against it as well. Molly’s grey eyes darted up to see him watching her hands coax the length of his shaft into her grasp, the primal rumbling in his chest making her uncomfortably wet. She wrapped her hands around his dark girth, gripping hard as she stroked him.   
  
Open-mouthed, he snarled and saliva dripped from his tongue, his eyes never leaving her hands or the practiced way she pumped him. The cupboard above them groaned under the pressure of his fists.   
  
“You know,” Molly squeezed him, her tone conversational. All she got in response was an open-mouthed snarl and a low, vocal thrum, “The Hierarchy is missing out on a world of possibility with the way it fears biotics.”   
  
His tone shifted, questioning. Apparently words would not be forthcoming while she teased him. Chuckling like a femme fatale about to deliver a finishing blow, Molly leaned forwards and ran her clever tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip, which she took into her mouth and sucked on lightly. She knew that turian mouths couldn’t do  _ that, _ and judging by the sound of Vinth’s talons biting into the cheap metal of her cupboards, her human mouth was being well received.    
  
She flicked her tongue over his tip with her mouth still sealed around it, relishing the metallic tang that was so much stronger with the slick coating from his  _ ostium _ still on his cock. Vinth groaned and her cupboards creaked again, a ribbon of shredded metal falling somewhere in her view. Molly’s eyes crinkled with amusement.   
  
_ There goes my damage deposit _ .    
  
She hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.   
  
Wrapping her hands firmly around his throbbing blue shaft, Molly drummed up a biotic spark that grew like a second skin around him, pulling it tight with a slight mental flex.   
  
“ _ Spirits _ , Moll-”   
  
His words were cut off by the snap of his jaws when she slid her hands down to grip the base of his length, holding it steady as she guided his tip to the back of her throat. Then she pushed down, bobbing her head and taking him deeper and further with each push. It was a bit of an awkward angle to work with, but his height helped. She took his hot length in hungrily, tongue teasing his swollen ridges with every rise and fall. The motion had Vinth fisting her hair, pulling it hard and making her scalp tingle until he finally lifted her off of him with a swift pull upwards. She yelped.   
  
“If you...keep that up,” he snarled out through heavy, panting breaths, “ _ Fuck.  _ Do all humans-”   
  
He realized, then, that he was still pulling her hair and let it go with a start, something that made her arch a slender brow up at him.   
  
“Before you apologize,” Molly grinned, “You should know that plenty of humans are into hair-pulling. Myself included.”   
  
She tightened her biotic grip around him again, looking up to watch his talons shred her cupboard while his free hand wound its way into her hair. He tugged, lightly at first, until she strained against his grip for another taste of his cock.  _ Then _ he pulled her back, grazing his teeth over the delicate skin of her neck before lightly nipping her shoulder.

His teeth dug in just enough to prick her skin and draw small beads of blood. Vinth let them build before laving them with his tongue, slacking his grip on her hair as that low, trilling purr of his started up again. 

Well.  _ That _ was new. Not unexpected, but new. Biting was something that happened in the heat of the moment in Molly’s experience, but he was acting like that nip was meant to calm her. Instead it just made her want to shove him onto the floor and ride him. Hard.

She cast a heated glance up at Vinth, but he was focused on something else now. When Molly followed his pale gaze, she realized that he was trying to pull her tight leggings down and away, a challenge to do without shredding them considering how sharp he kept his talons. He finally looked into her eyes, agitated, and when she just smirked and nodded at him he shredded her leg-prisons into ribbons. The black fabric (and the panties beneath) had gone the way of her cupboard, and they both scrambled to brush away the tatters, kicking out of their shoes in the process. Vinth took a long, hungry look at her when they were free and drew a deep breath.

“Bed.”   
  
It was the only warning he gave before lifting her up by her ass again. Laughing, she wrapped her legs around him and - ah, right. He was unsheathed. Their position had her slick folds pressed against him, the contact pulling a hungry whine from the back of her throat. Vinth snarled again, his hot breath skimming over her scalp before he dropped her unceremoniously on her cot and kneeled before her.   
  
There was no slow build, no tenderness or romance to the way he split her legs apart and pressed his plated face between her thighs. The furious need that spurred him along set her heart pounding and she tilted her hips to give him better access, eager to feel what his tongue could do.   
  
She wasn’t ready.   
  
At first he explored, slowly raking the long, blue muscle over her sex as though committing every detail and every reaction she had to memory. When the pointed tip of his tongue pushed against her clit she moaned, back arching as she bucked into the touch. Pleasure sparked through her, sweetly thrumming as it curled her toes and made her shudder. Avinthus was growling delightedly at her response. He grabbed her legs and pulled her forward so he could prop them up on his shoulders, her ass on the edge of the bed.   
  
She couldn’t really follow what happened after that. He deftly squeezed her clit with the calloused pads of his digits the moment the long muscle of his tongue slid inside her, pushing and testing. It felt as though her entire body had caught fire, her weak biotics pulsing across her flushed skin like an electric pulse. Every push and flick of Vinth’s tongue inside of her made her shudder and cry, her hands fisting the sheets as a thin sweat broke out across her body.    
  
Then he found it. That sweet pearl, the bundle of nerves hidden deep inside that when pressed was like a release for all of her control. Molly’s whole body was trembling as she came undone, her pleasure pooling out of her and soaking Vinth’s face while he greedily devoured her sex. It felt so good it  _ ached _ , turning her into a woman possessed.   
  
“Vinth,” she cried out, pulling him closer with her legs, “ _ Please. _ ”   
  
Please what? She didn’t know. Please stop, please never stop, please  _ more _ . Molly wanted all of that or something else entirely. She couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling until finally it all released and she shot up, curling tight around his head while her body trembled and went numb from the delightful heat he planted in her. Avinthus finally released her from his grip, the retraction of his tongue making her whimper and whine until she fell back in her rickety bed.    
  
Slowly her senses came back to her, the languid brush of Vinth’s smooth talon-backs soothing her shaking legs while she gathered her thoughts.   
  
_ Fucking Christ. _   
  
Molly was not religious, but the expression seemed appropriate. She could make an excuse, tell herself that the intensity of her orgasm was because of how long she had gone without, but that would be a terrible lie. Vinth knew it, too. She glanced up at him and saw the smug squint in his eyes, something he didn’t bother trying to hide when he caught her looking at him. The dim glow from her oven light was all she needed to see how dark the front of his face had grown, the pearly sheen of her orgasm dripping from his mandibles. She watched his pointed, blue tongue flick out and catch the drops and felt her eyes widen.   
  
“Fucking Christ, Vinth,” she repeated aloud, her voice weak.    
  
So much for her bumbling, adorable turian. This man was a different beast altogether, though she assumed he felt the same about  _ her. _ She was decidedly  _ not _ behaving like the Molly Thorne he had gotten to know. The sheer force of her climax had exhausted her to the point where she was worried she wouldn’t be able to return the favour, but then her pale companion stood up and her eyes were drawn downward.

_ Fucking Christ _ , she thought again as she watched a stream of precum beading at the tip of his long, tapered shaft to stream towards the base. Just like that her body was coming to life again. Heat soaked into her tired muscles and she sat up, reenergized, to pull his taut length down so she could lap up the precum and hum with pleasure. Vinth’s hands were in her hair again, talons tickling her scalp.

“Do you need to tap out?” he asked, exhaling slowly with the leisurely teasing of her tongue on his shaft. Molly could hear just how pleased with himself he was and released him.   
  
“Try me.”   
  
The challenge in her voice excited him. She felt the dig of his talons in her scalp again and laughed when he pushed her backwards on the cot, into the damp pool that had bloomed from her. She let out a theatrical groan of displeasure, running her fingers through her hair while she watched him lower himself onto the cot next to her. The flimsy metal legs groaned beneath his weight and they both exchanged a concerned glance. Not concerned enough, though.   
  
“It’s cold,” she complained offhandedly, grinning at him.   
  
One of his brow plates cocked up, something she had never seen a turian do before. Was it her influence? Molly was a master of the arched brow and its many implications, after all. He lowered his face into her neck, breath licking her cool skin and sending waves of gooseflesh across her entire body, which elicited an amused trill from him as he watched it happen.   
  
“Let me warm you up, then,” Vinth growled against her neck.   
  
He pinned her hip against the bed and pushed himself up to place himself between her legs, mouth opening wide to let his tongue hang down again, which she knew to be a sign of intense arousal in turians.    
  
“Such a generous man, Avinthus Flos.”   
  
A shadow passed briefly over his expression, but it disappeared when she pressed her fingertips against the side of his neck. He chuckled, grabbing a leg by the thigh and pushing it back, watching her muscles flex.   
  
“Admiring the view?” asked Molly, making a point to look down at his twitching cock expectantly.   
  
“Patience,” he squeezed her leg and dipped his hips low until the hot tip of his shaft was resting on her entrance. She bucked eagerly.   
  
“I wondered at what your legs would feel like, watching you on that stage,” Vinth said quietly to himself, “They’re  _ strong _ . I didn’t expect them to be so...squishy. Human anatomy is bizarre.”   
  
“Says the guy with the carapace and the flicking mandibles.”   
  
The turian fixed her with a stern expression and flicked his mandibles teasingly, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his trilling laughter. He moved his hips, rubbing his shaft through her slick folds and let out a pleasured, crooning tone.   
  
“Mmmn, hold on,” Molly purred in response, drawing her wrist close to fiddle with her omni. Vinth watched, impatiently teasing her with the ridges of his alien cock. She whimpered, then let her arms fall to herself as a dreamy tickling of ivories began to play from the speakers on the counter.   
  
Vinth made a thoughtful noise, the pitch matching the melody for a moment.   
  
“More of Len’s?” he asked.   
  
“The Star-Crossed Lovers. Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn,” Molly nodded, taking him in her hands to press him against her sex while she grinded her hips. Vinth sighed, talons digging into her thigh and making her squirm.   
  
“I like this,” he said, bitterness creeping through into his tone, shaking his head when Molly looked up at him with curiosity carved into her searching expression.   
  
“Leave it,” he released her thigh and leaned forward to nuzzle into her chest, tongue tracing over her breast to flick her nipple. She didn’t want to leave it, but she was melting under the clever touch of his tongue again.   
  
Sighing, she acquiesced and whispered, “Fine, but you can’t keep me out forever, Vinth. I’m going to keep pounding on the doors. I let you in, it’s only fair for you to do the s-”   
  
Her words were cut short by a tight gasp, hands flying to Vinth’s back to clutch onto him as he began to enter her. His tapered tip slipped in easily, but she felt herself growing maddeningly hot while he continued his slow plunge. She panted and arched her back, grasping his strong arms out of desperation for him to bury himself to the hilt. He chuckled and pulled back, tip pressing against her clit while she moaned.   
  
“Cruel,” she gasped.   
  
“That’s not my name,” he reminded Molly, amusement lacing his amorous tone. Fuck, who had replaced her bumbling snowball? This smug bastard was torturing her with her own thirst, his dominance thrilling her from her chest to her core.   
  
“Stuff it,” she grumped, tilting her hips up hungrily, pulling hard on his strong back so he would come closer.   
  
Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Avinthus did exactly as he was told and thrusted deep into her, making her scream out his name. She buried her nails in his hide and wrapped her legs around him, swirling her hips while he was flush to her body. Molly felt his rough skin chafing against her but could hardly bring herself to care. She could barely feel it anyways, considering how hot she was running.   
  
Molly’s spectacular hip control finally had the turian shuddering, and she felt the sheets shifting beneath her as he fisted them, his ravenous growl cutting through the music.   
  
She felt triumphant until she felt his hot, damp mandible brushed against her ear, smelling of her.   
  
“Good girl,” he crooned, his low, flanging voice sending shivers through her, “That’s more like it.”   
  
“ _ Fuck, _ ” Molly hissed, the scorching need in her core getting so intense it trickled out of her even with Avinthus’ cock buried deep inside.   
  
“What was that?” he asked, pulling out and roughly thrusting into her again, and again, and again, until her pleasure had her turning to putty beneath him. She opened her mouth to answer but he beat her to the punch. Taloned fingers touched the side of her neck and squeezed lightly, just enough to cut off her breath and still her words. Lips parting in pleasure, Molly’s eyes found Vinth’s and they stayed like that, staring into each other while he fucked her hard and controlled her breath.   
  
The intensity of his gaze stirred something in her, something beyond simple, animal pleasure. It scared her and she turned away, biting her lip when he squeezed her windpipe a final time, bringing his mouth plates close to her ear again.   
  
“What was that?” he repeated, an order threaded through his words.   
  
She looked up at him again, brows knotted, and gasped when he released her neck from his grasp.   
  
“ _ Avinthus _ ,” she cried out, unable to deny him.   
  
Every word, every movement made her hot for him. The force of it hit her in a way she didn’t think was possible, and as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, hips steadily pounding his shaft into her, she found that spot beneath his fringe again.   
  
“ _ Fuck _ ,” he snarled, “Molly-”   
  
“ _ Don’t hold back _ ,” she cut in before he could warn her off.   
  
It was like removing a muzzle from a caged beast. Molly dug her nail in hard and his teeth clamped down on her shoulder, digging deep. The ache of it pulled her to the edge once more and she felt herself tightening hard around his ridged cock, body shaking.   
  
Avinthus came hard, burying himself in her one last time and humming with a deep, primal growl as hot cum spilled out of him until they were both quivering in each other’s arms. Slowly, carefully, Vinth released Molly’s shoulder from his powerful jaws, the sensual jazz melodies playing from the speakers punctuated by their panting as he did. She let out a little moan when he pulled away from her, but it was quickly drowned by the cot creaking in protest beneath them.   
  
The two exchanged worried glances, but they weren’t quick enough to react. Their combined weight was too much for Molly’s rickety bed and the cheap metal whined and bent, sending the cot crashing to the floor.   
  
“Oof!”   
  
The force of Vinth falling into her, especially with his keel digging into her chest, knocked the wind out of the small woman.   
  
“Moll!”   
  
Vinth pushed himself up and looked her over in a panic, terrified he might have hurt her. When their eyes met, the absurdity of what just happened washed over the two of them and they both started laughing hard. They were giddy and spent, which made the laughter last until neither one of them could breathe.

It was Vinth who found his composure first, catching his breath as his shaft, now soft, pulled back behind his  _ ostium _ before it drew to a close.

“I’ll pay for your new cot,” he chuckled, lowering himself onto his side next to her carefully, “And, uh, clothes.”   
  
His tongue reached out, slowly laving over the deep punctures he had bit into her shoulder and lapping up the blood. The sensation soothed the growing pain, which was a welcome sensation. As the adrenaline and the lust wore off, Molly was left aching all over. She rested a hand on her sore ribs and found herself chuckling, too, in spite of that.   
  
“And the cupboard,” she reminded him.   
  
“Ah. Right.”   
  
Avinthus nuzzled into her neck, laying one of his hands over hers to help dull the ache in her chest. He draped a long, muscled leg over her as well. They lay in a comfortable, companionable for some time, until Molly felt her good sense creeping back to scream at her to go tend to herself. At the very least she should use the washroom and take a dextro ingestion shot, something she kept on hand living on the Citadel just in case. How fortunate.   
  
Likely sensing that she was about to move, the turian locked his leg in place to hold her still for a moment, running the backs of his talons over her bare skin, careful not to touch the ugly bruise on her ribs.   
  
“The first time we met,” he said quietly, subvocals filling the room yet still falling on deaf ears, like feedback outside her register, “I wanted to tell you that your dancing...it brought me out of a dark place, Moll. Reminded me of someone, helped me understand things that never clicked for me before. I used to think dancing and music, that all of it was a waste of energy, that it was pointless. It never seemed to achieve or accomplish anything, but...well, it means something when you dance. It helped me make peace with a ghost I’ve been carrying around.”   
  
Molly was very, very still. She held her breath while Vinth coaxed tangles loose from her hair, breathing her scent as that trilling purr of his began to rumble from within his carapace again. It was the most Vinth had ever really told her about himself, and she was afraid that a sudden movement might break the spell.   
  
Her emotions were tumultuous despite how still she was. Internally, she was screaming for Avinthus to keep talking. He kept quiet, though, and the moment passed. She slipped away to use the washroom, pressing the shot into her leg while she sat on the cold toilet and felt her heart thundering.   
  
_ Too much _ .   
  
The words kept repeating in her head, making her want to run from the apartment and into the cold vacuum of space. She gave in to her body’s carnal desires because she wanted to forget the shitstorm that was her life, because she wanted to stop thinking about the fact that Leore might be dead, even if only for a few short moments. Instead her heart was getting as tangled up in Avinthus as her body had been. It was sudden and relentless, a storm of feelings crashing into her and leaving her shipwrecked in a new reality she didn’t want to face.   
  
She would have to cut it off before she fell in too deep. Classes started again tomorrow and she had to focus, had to forget about all of  _ this _ . Her momentary lapse of judgment, driven by her awful traitor of a body, couldn’t happen again. She’d throw herself into her studies and leave her relationship with Vinth where it belonged: at  _ Red Nova _ . Then, when she was done school, she could leave it all behind her.   
  
Molly finished up in the bathroom by rubbing some medigel into the vicious bite mark on her shoulder and went back to the broken cot to find that Vinth had actually gotten under the blankets. Still completely naked, she crawled in beside him, turning on her side. She was hoping that turning her back to him would keep him away, but instead he pulled her against him, his arm wrapping around her protectively to rest on her breast, close enough to her heart that he must have been able to feel it thundering inside her.

Vinth’s face nuzzled into the crook of her neck and he breathed in the scent of her hair again. Even though he was the source of her anguish she felt herself calming in his arms. He was warm, and it felt safe to be wrapped up in him. Even if she was going to keep her distance from him starting tomorrow, she could enjoy his company tonight. Molly’s hand reached up to wrap her fingers around his, letting herself breathe a heavy sigh as she felt those trilling purrs of his against her back. They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other on a broken cot in Molly’s tiny box of an apartment, quiet jazz lulling them into dreamless sleep.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All your actin', your thin disguise,  
All your perfectly delivered lies,  
They don't fool me. You've been lonely too long.  
\- [Dust to Dust](https://open.spotify.com/track/5P6ZBMWS66FVo6deJaDdHy)

Molly had adjusted to life in her tiny box of an apartment. Specifically, she had adjusted to wearing a lot of layers and piling under blankets to keep warm. Her building was consistently chilly and she refused to spend more credits on heat than she had to when a heavy cardigan and a few extra blankets would suffice. Still, she woke every morning needing a cup of tea to fight the raw feeling in her throat that came from breathing nothing but cold air in her sleep.   
  
She couldn’t recall the last time she was warm  _ and _ comfortable in her rickety little cot. It was such a strange sensation to wake slowly, to bask in a comfortable heat before the shrill chirping of her alarm told her it was time to get moving. What time was it anyhow? She wanted to check, but once she opened her eyes there would be no going back to sleep. Just a few more moments like this…   
  
Grumbling in protest against the inevitability of her routine, Molly wiggled further into her sheets to curl into a mercifully toasty heat source . It was solid, wiry, and felt rough against her bare skin. Not your typical bedfellow, but it wasn’t the itchiest plush she’d ever had. She recalled a knit doll made of a wickedly scratchy wool, but...huh. Molly ran her hands along the length of the “plush,” tracing the soft pads of her fingertips over a bumpy surface. It was a familiar texture, one she recalled from school. She had run her fingers over arms like this before, searching for the right place to slip a sterile needle. It was harder to find a pulse with turians, thanks to their thick skin. You had to focus, take your time, apply a little more pressure...   
  
She ran practiced hands over the arm her fingers were roaming, taking inventory of the many scars, split plates, and other old wounds that had long since healed. A soldier’s arms, but why were they invading her dreams? No, that wasn’t right. If she was dreaming, why could she hear the rattling hum of the air exchanger that cycled oxygen through her apartment? Such a hateful, invasive rattling would never make it into her dreams.   
  
Somewhere deep within the haze of sleep a memory of sharp talons and the scent of gunsmoke flooded her senses. She felt old and new wounds alike begin to ache, a sweetness to it that made her heart race.    
  
Just like that, Molly was ejected from her sleep-fog and her eyes shot open to stare wide-eyed at the battle-worn arm she held in her hands.

The reality of her situation arced through her light a lightning strike and she felt her entire body tensing. Molly was stark naked beneath her blankets, burrowing into Avinthus Flos with one of his arms hugged tight into her bare chest and the other draped over her protectively. He was sleeping soundly before her, his arm a prison that she desperately wished to break free from so she could properly get her bearings.

If she wanted she was sure she could free herself, but doing so risked waking the sleeping turian, something she wasn’t prepared to do. Instead she sighed and released his arm so she could turn her back to him. A quick flick of her wrist summoned her omni, painting her in its orange glow. Molly’s heart sunk when she saw the time. Her classes were hours away, but there was no way she’d be able to fall asleep again with a naked Vinth wrapped around her.   
  
_ Shit. _   
  
She needed an action plan. She needed to figure out how to handle this, how to handle  _ them _ after last night.   
  
It had been an impulse. A rash decision made out of exhaustion, desperation, and fear. She barely remembered the lead-up beyond the feel of his hand on her side, the light touch something that she still felt scorching her skin. After that something in her snapped and she became a creature of singular thought:  _ devour _ . She just wanted to forget the bullshit she was mired in, just wanted to give in to reckless abandon and make a foolish decision that was all her own for the first time in years.

In the cool quiet of her apartment, Molly was faced with the consequences of her actions. 

She couldn’t afford getting tangled up in a guy she barely knew. Vinth was a friend to her now, sure, but just barely. Dragging him back to her apartment and fucking him because she didn’t want to be alone, because she was impulsive and afraid and too damn pathetic to handle things on her own? That had complicated things. Fucking wasn’t the way to build a friendship, it was a sure-fire way to ruin one. 

Thinking about it turned her stomach into a lead weight.   
  
The way Vinth had talked to her before they fell asleep, the way he had finally let her in a little… It was obvious sleeping together had  _ meant _ something to him, that it was more than just carnal indulgence.    
  
She refused to let herself think about whether or not it meant more to her, too, for the simple fact that it  _ couldn’t _ . Molly was about to start one of the most important legs of her career, one that would demand everything of her. She’d be balancing scut work, studying for exams and certs, and hands-on learning. Every fibre of her being had to be tuned to her work.Tall mystery-turians couldn’t be a priority.  _ Wouldn’t _ be a priority.   
  
_ “Men aren’t worth it, bumblebee,” her grandmother was frowning thoughtfully over a steaming pot, brows pinched, “they’ll never love you the way you should love yourself.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Jesus in the garden, mudder, d'you have t'give'er that talk now?” Lucas was scratching his head, his accent slipping heavily into his words as his eyes darted between his mother and his daughter. _

_ “She just had her first period, Lukey, don’t be so naive,” the iron-haired woman spat back, winking at Molly when he cowed and eased off. Molly just giggled and tried to ignore how embarrassing it was to talk about periods with her father around. _

_ “Daddy’s not bad, though, right? Mom stuck around and she doesn’t wanna leave, at least I don’t  _ think _ she does.” _

_ Lucas tugged on the collar of his shirt and made a strangled little cry deep in his throat before excusing himself. Tansy Thorne watched on, amused, before winking at her granddaughter. It was rare to see Lucas on the receiving end of the teasing for once. _

_ “He’s one of the good few, bumblebee. But of course he is, since I raised him. Your grandfather was a real piece of work though.” _

_ Molly sat up straight in her seat, folding her hands in front of her politely as she watched her nan spooning raw honey into the pot. She hadn’t heard much about her paternal grandfather before and wanted to learn all she could. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “He was a fisherman, did Lucas ever tell you that? He loved the ocean more than anything else and spent most of the year on boats,” she stirred the pot and added a little pinch of salt, glaring into the bubbling blueberry goodness, “And the last time we said goodbye on the docks was the last time I ever heard from him. I told him I was pregnant and he disappeared, leaving me with nothing. I had nothing but an empty home. No career, not even a job. I stopped going to school when I married him, so my options were limited. So you know what I did?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Molly grinned and nodded. She knew this part of the story before - the part after her grandfather. _

_ “You pushed up your sleeves and got working! Learned how to forage and grow food since you couldn’t afford much, then passed that knowledge down in lessons and books,” Molly finished the story, “And when daddy came into the picture you did it all with a baby strapped to your back!” _

_ “I did it by myself, because we are capable of great things when we stop telling ourselves that we’re not enough. If you get lucky like your parents or your mother’s parents, fine, but that’s a rare thing, little bumblebee. Rely on yourself first, because you’re going to rule those stars up there. Don’t let anyone get in the way of that. Man, woman, or otherwise.” _

_ Tansy waved her wooden spoon in the general direction of the sky and Molly nodded enthusiastically. Her parents lectured her nan after that, reminding her that their little girl shouldn’t go out into the world jaded. Tansy just laughed her barking laugh and reminded them that not even  _ she  _ could diminish Molly’s spirit. She just wanted to make sure the girl knew what she was capable of. _

The memory was one that Molly hadn’t dusted off in a long time. Tansy Thorne had been tough as nails, a woman who conquered every trial life had thrown at her. A single mother, an accomplished author, a damn good cook and a cancer survivor. Life had left her broken-hearted and beaten down time again, but she stood up with a stubborn smile on her face every time. Hell, she’d even died with that smile on her face.

She was Molly’s greatest inspiration in life.

Trying to move without disturbing Vinth too much, the dancer pulled her right arm towards her face so she could see the tattoos etched into her skin. Simple black lines of scratchy, hurried hand-writing and simple illustrations. Her nan had a massive collection of recipes, but the ones that made it onto Molly’s arm meant something special. The spiced blueberry jam was there, homemade currant, soda bread, and her famous cloudberry pie.

Molly couldn’t help but wonder what she would have to say about all of this. She knew that her nan would never hold a fun night against her, but she also knew the woman had the most discerning eye she had ever encountered. She’d see all the strings connected to sleeping with a man like Vinth, and she would be horribly suspicious of how secretive he was, how withholding. She would also remind her how much of a distraction a bedfellow would be, how damaging it could be to her focus and drive for her career.   
  
Tansy would be in full support of Molly keeping the turian out of her daily life and out of her bed.   
  
_ “Men aren’t worth it, bumblebee.” _   
  
Molly was pulled out of her memories by a sharp talon tracing over the inked lines of a blueberry leaf, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. When had Vinth woken up?   
  
“You said these were all recipes, right? What’s this one?” His voice was still thick with sleep and she felt him shift so he could nuzzle his face into the back of her neck without his keel pressing painfully into her.    
  
_ How thoughtful _ , she grumped internally. He seemed determined to make it difficult for her to cut him out of her life outside  _ Nova _ .   
  
There was a long pause while she hesitated, her response caught between pursed lips. She had to tell him this was a one-time thing, that it couldn’t continue. It was possible he felt the same, but she’d know for sure if she put all of her thoughts out in the open for him. Even so, she hesitated and swallowed her words, sighing when he closed a rough, pale hand over hers.

“Spiced blueberry jam,” she answered quietly, the wrongness of enjoying his company hitting her heavier with her nan’s ghost lingering in the space between them, “We’d pick the berries together every year, filling up as many buckets as we could carry. Then we’d make the jam together and the whole house would smell like blueberries and cloves for days.”   
  
“Can you buy blueberries on the Citadel?”    
  
He shifted the conversation just enough to avoid pressing for more details about her nan, no doubt because of the shakiness of her voice when she shared the memory. Molly answered with a humourless chuckle and watched his hand squeezing hers, noting that his knuckles were scarred, no doubt from throwing a punch against something harder than his plates. She could only imagine what they might have been.   
  
“No,” she shook her head and watched Vinth’s fingers slip through hers, fitting imperfectly. Three and five fingers awkwardly laced together, yet it still didn’t feel uncomfortable, “Or rather, you  _ can _ buy them, I just can’t afford them. They’re too expensive.”   
  
He made a sympathetic trill and let the subject and her hand go, deciding instead to let his palm wander over her curves.   
  
_ One day _ , she thought stubbornly, forcing herself to ignore the shiver that raced through her from Vinth’s touch,  _ One day soon I’ll be able to buy them. Once I’m making a doctor’s wage the first thing I’m going to do is buy blueberries and this shitty little apartment will finally smell like home. _   
  
Talons skimmed lightly over her skin, hitching her breath. It was getting harder to ignore the very large turian in her bed. She had to come up with a plan, a way to distract him from tempting her again in the hours before she had to leave for school. She should just ask him to leave her, but-   
  
“My parents still pick them back home and send some jam every year, though,” Molly blurted, her heart hammering against her chest as Vinth’s talons lingered perilously close to her breast, “I have some. D’you, mm, d’you think your stomach could handle trying some?”   
  
A thoughtful sound hummed in his throat, low and rough from his own content sleep fog. He let his hand rest on her bruised ribs as he considered her offer.   
  
“No, but this  _ is _ the Citadel,” she felt him shrug lightly and pull away, leaving her with nothing but the ghost of his warmth in the mattress behind her. The dull orange glow of his omnitool reflected off her pale skin and set curiosity chewing at her thoughts.   
  
Molly considered turning around to face him, but the dull ache in her ribs was starting to come back. So instead she pushed herself up so she was sitting with the blankets pooled in her lap and watched him flicking through some screens, eyes too bleary to pick out what he was looking at. There was a question written in the set of her brows, something the turian noticed when he glanced up at her, eyes momentarily roaming over her naked form with an appreciative hum.   
  
Suddenly self-conscious, the woman tugged at her auburn hair so it tumbled over her breasts, then began to work the tangles out with her fingers. Something indecipherable passed over Vinth’s expression, his mandibles pressing tight against his face before he focused on his omni again, leaving Molly with a pang of guilt in her gut.   
  
“I learned early on that on the Citadel you can have anything delivered at any time,” he explained matter-of-factly, “So it would be no trouble to have a levo shot brought to the door within the hour.”

It was Molly’s turn to make a thoughtful sound before Vinth cleared his throat and cast his pale blue gaze at the floor, nervously rubbing the talons of his thumb and digits against each other, “And a new cot while I’m at it. Depending on how much time you have I could even put it together for you. It’s the least I can do since,  _ ahem _ , I don’t think there’s any saving this one.”

Despite herself, Molly smirked.   
  
“At least it held together until the end,” she praised the inanimate object with a theatrical tone, patting the mattress as one would a well-behaved pet.   
  
“That’s loyalty,” he nodded his agreement, his sombre tone equally exaggerated. The playful spark in his eye gave him away when he looked up at her.   
  
“I’ll light a candle for it tonight,” Molly’s smirk had grown, crinkling her eyes. Without realizing it she had rested a hand on one of the snowball’s legs.   
  
“And I’ll raise a glass.”   
  
Vinth swept away the omni screen, putting his hand on Molly’s and chuckling. When the moment passed he looked straight into her grey eyes and asked, “So?”   
  
“So?”   
  
Suddenly her hand felt trapped again. Her heart began hammering.   
  
“I can leave, if you’d rather. Or I could stay and put the bed together if there’s time, if you’d-”   
  
She held out her free hand to stop him, opening her mouth to send him home.   
  
“I’ll start on the bread,” she said instead, breath catching in her throat when she watched his fingers reach up and grab a lock of soft auburn hair, letting it slide through his fingers.   
  
_ No more _ , she told herself firmly,  _ Once he leaves, there will be no more of this. _   
  
“I don’t see many humans with hair this long,” he mused, silencing her nagging thoughts, “Is it heavy?”   
  
“Probably,” she shrugged, “But I don’t really notice it. I’d notice the difference if I cut it, though.”   
  
A curious trill followed her words and he looked up at her, eyes squinting in a way that made her feel like he was...worried?   
  
“Would it hurt if you did that?”   
  
The quiet chill of her tiny apartment was filled with Molly’s laughter. It bounced off the walls and broke up the silence that followed the pale turian’s worried question.   
  
“No,” she answered, tucking stubborn tresses behind an ear, “Not at all. It’s just..hair.”   
  
She yanked one out and quirked a brow at him, glancing at his hand. He upturned his palm to receive the wavy strand, bringing it close to his face to inspect it.   
  
“What’s the point of it?”   
  
“It kept us warm and protected us from the sun long ago, before clothes, hats and, y’know. Modern technology,” she shrugged.   
  
“Mmm,” he hummed his appreciation for that fact and let the hair fall from his grasp before bringing up the screen on his omni again. After a few quick flicks and a little  _ ding _ from the speaker he was free to sweep the screens away again.   
  
“Done.”   
  
That was Molly’s cue to get up and get moving. Forgetting herself, she reached her arms over her head and stretched, moving carefully so her ribs wouldn’t ache any worse than they did. Vinth, she noticed with a sinking feeling, was watching her very intently. His intense gaze traced over her bare shoulders when her hair spilled back, lingering on what was no doubt an ugly bruise growing out from the spot where he had bitten her. He reached up and brushed the backs of his talons over the punctures, his touch feather-light.   
  
“Does it hurt?”   
  
“Mmm,” she shook her head, “Not really, no. Just a little tender.”   
  
She took his hand and gently moved it away from her shoulder so she could stand up, heart drumming from the knowledge of what kind of view she was giving him. Hurriedly, she found her suitcase and grabbed herself a fresh set of panties and a long shirt. Once she hauled them on, she stepped into her navy slippers and looked down at Vinth, unable to stop the crooked grin that twitched to life on her full lips.   
  
How did it not occur to her how poorly he would fit on her cot? With his legs stretched out they hung off the mattress comically, his bare feet sticking out of the blankets. He caught her amusement and wiggled his clawed toes, earning a breathy laugh before she set about collecting their strewn clothes. Before that, however, she tapped at the controls for her lights on the wall to make it easier to find everything.   
  
Following her example, Vinth pushed aside the blankets and got up out of the bed so he could help her. She was kneeling down to pluck up her panties when he stood up to his full height, his pale body on full display. Curious, grey eyes looked over every inch of him, unable to resist. 

True, Vinth had been completely naked and exposed while she indulged in him the night before, but she hadn’t even given him a second glance. Molly had been so swept up in what was happening that she just went at him like a woman possessed. Now, with the lights turned on and her head level, she was finally seeing the turian. Every inch of him.

Vinth was  _ covered _ in scars. His pale, snowy hide and plates marred with violent blue marks all over. The remnants of gunshots, stab wounds, and worse covered him from shoulder to toe, a clear indication that he had seen some grim combat during his time in the military. It was a small consolation that his helmet had at least kept his face free of serious damage.

Still, scars like Vinth’s told an awful story: one of close calls and a heavy reliance on medigel and stims to keep soldiers patched together long enough to survive. She had seen plenty of soldiers during rounds, and scars like Vinth’s weren’t new to her, but it was different when you saw those kinds of old wounds on someone you knew.

Her lungs burned and she realized she was holding her breath. Inhaling deeply, Molly did her best to stop her brows from pinching. It was a hopeless effort, especially when she found herself peering up at his cowl.

Fractures ran from Vinth’s keel and up through his cowl where chunks of his carapace had been blasted off and more or less glued back together. It had been fixed back into place with a silver-blue alloy that gleamed prettily in the white light of her apartment, an outdated turian medical practice that reminded her of an old Japanese tradition she had seen back on earth. She couldn’t remember the name for it, but she knew it involved fixing broken ceramics using metallic lacquers, usually gold.

_ Conigo _ was the name of the turian medical procedure, a painful last-resort often used by field medics with no ready access to modern surgical facilities. She couldn’t help frowning at the brutality he had no doubt suffered, and those breaks...the blast must have been excruciating, the recovery likely just as bad. She had to wonder what could have caused her friend so much pain, partly due to curiosity and partly out of concern. Normally she’d guess bullets or a grenade had done that kind of massive damage, but the breaks were too clean. Biotics, then?

“You should see the other guy,” there was a nervous trill behind Vinth’s chuckle. Was he self-conscious? The turian closed the distance between himself and his pants which lay wrinkled atop his boots on the floor near Molly. After stooping to grab them, he hauled them on and fussed with the fastenings for the spur covers while she processed what she had seen.   
  
“What happened?” she was still frowning at him.   
  
“Pirate,” he held out his hand to help her up, which she ignored. Instead she stood back up on her own and folded her arms over her chest while he shrugged and continued, saying, “With biotics and fucked up on red sand. One of his buddies bit through my shields with a well-aimed slug, then he rushed me with a shockwave. I managed to shoot them down before it hit me, at least.”   
  
Molly shook her head, face scrunching up in distaste. He trilled again and raised his brow plates in confusion.   
  
“It just pisses me off,” she tossed the panties she had been clenching in her fist on top of her suitcase and stomped over to her kettle, flicking it on, “That people can be so...so callous. Just running around killing for credits and drugs and then people like you have to step in and get-”   
  
Two large, taloned hands were placed on her hips and she froze, biting her lip to stop herself from shoving Vinth away. He nuzzled the back of her neck, pressing his scarred carapace gently against her as a trilling purr rumbled deep in his chest. The feel of it against her back  _ did _ calm her, admittedly. Why must he make it so damned hard for her to pull away from him?   
  
“It’s why we need people like you,  _ bumblebee, _ ” his tone was teasing, but it was also very gentle. The sound of it doused the fires of her pissy mood almost immediately, but her face was still pinched as she imagined a deadly wave of biotics thundering towards Vinth and ripping through his turian-made  _ and  _ his natural armour.   
  
“Watch it,  _ snowball _ ,” she lobbed back, twisting on the spot so she was facing him with her backside leaned against the counter. Vinth just chuckled and leaned forward to bring his face close to her wounded shoulder, gently flicking his mandible against it. It was an intimate gesture that she had witnessed between turians on the Citadel before, but she saw it most commonly between turian patients and their partners during rounds. She knew it was something typically done in private (the only time an exception was made was when doctors coming and going daily was your norm), so Molly had to make herself stubbornly ignore what the gesture implied for him.

She was largely unsuccessful. Instead of pulling away, she found her eyes sweeping over the elegant curve of his fringe, then reached up to run her fingers along it as well. The corners of her full mouth twitched upwards when she reached the end of the longest spike, which flicked upwards at the end. She hadn’t seen a fringe with an upward curve before, at least not in person. Molly would never tell him out of fear of stroking his ego, but his was the most impressive fringe she’d ever laid eyes on. She’d even go so far as to call it  _ striking _ .

_ This is  _ not  _ how you push a man out of your life. _   
  
“I need to make bread,” she reminded him gently.   
  
There was a rumbling noise of protest, but Vinth relented before long. He pulled back and skulked off to grab his shirt, hauling it on over his head before he moved his boots next to her shoe rack. While Molly preheated the oven and began to fish out the ingredients for a simple soda bread, careful not to cut herself on the shredded metal of her cupboard, he went about picking up the rest of her clothes. He even stripped the bed and folded everything, setting it aside so he could take apart the broken cot.   
  
Molly, meanwhile, had finished cleaning up ribbons of thin metal from her floor and counter and was measuring out flour, salt, and baking soda. She whisked it all together then formed a well and poured in some buttermilk substitute. Curious, the turian temporarily gave up on struggling with her human tools and came up behind her to observe the process, trilling his curiosity.   
  
“Just four ingredients?”   
  
“Five,” the dancer corrected, getting her hands in the bowl to mix the ingredients. She could feel the snowball’s gears turning his thoughts through his head as he counted the ingredients on the counter.   
  
“Uh, Moll, there’s-”   
  
“Four ingredients on the counter, I know.”   
  
She had had this exact conversation with her nan when she was younger. The memory flooded her chest with warmth as she kneaded the dough.   
  
“So what’s the fifth?”   
  
Molly turned her head just enough to catch Vinth’s eyes, her smirk a reflection of her nan’s from long ago. She arched a brow and quoted Tansy verbatim, “A hell of a lot of heart.”   
  
Vinth was quicker than she gave him credit for, though. His brow plates raised and his eyes sparked with amusement.   
  
“Are you making me human love bread-”   
  
She elbowed his gut, relishing the shocked  _ “Oof!” _ that escaped him.   
  
“You should be so lucky,” she chided him, scrunching up her nose and placing the dough into a greased skillet. She scored an  _ X _ into the surface of the dough with a knife and continued, “All food should be made with a general sense of love for the  _ creation _ of the thing. Not just for some smug-ass snowball blessed with the gift of speech.”   
  
He just chuckled and folded his arms over his chest, watching her slide the bread into the oven. When she stood up to face him and set a timer on her omni, she mirrored his pose and  _ harrumphed _ .   
  
“Wanna reach up into that cupboard you shredded last night and find a jar of purple preserves?”   
  
Vinth looked up at the cupboard, then back at Molly. His mandibles flicked.   
  
“How do you normally reach that-”   
  
“Don’t go there, snowball,” she threatened, the intensity of her glare causing his mouth to snap shut, “Or else.”   
  
She watched him flick his mandibles and scratch at his chin, thinking.   
  
“Do you have a stepstool? Or-”   
  
He went there.   
  
_ Wrong move, big guy. _   
  
This time Molly cut him off making a rude gesture and sticking out her tongue. All that got her was another chuckle, but before she could really pitch into the giant arse there was a knocking at her door.   
  
Vinth leapt at the opportunity to get away for a moment, fearing the verbal reprimand he was about to be subjected to. She was almost grateful, as it gave her the chance to let a stupid grin settle itself on her expression without the turian seeing it. She shook herself to get rid of the dumb look on her face and tilted her head curiously at the door.

Unexpectedly, it was the bed that was delivered first, by way of a grumpy elcor. Maybe the furniture place he ordered from was closer to her apartment? Vinth exchanged a few polite words with the cantankerous alien then signed for the bed and carried the boxes inside. By that time Molly had lost her steam for bickering, so she left Vinth to meticulously pick apart her old cot and put together the new one with the human tools she had given him.

Grabbing the data pad that had been shoved aside on the counter the night before, she checked the kettle and poured up two cups of oolong tea. One cup and one measuring glass, rather. There was another knock on the door when she activated the datapad to start studying. 

Vinth took his levo shot the moment the door to Molly’s apartment hissed shut a second time, then joined her for a sip of tea. He eyed the measuring glass suspiciously, then searched her face for any hint that she might be teasing him. Lacking any mugs designed for turian mouths, a measuring cup was the best Molly could do, something she explained when she felt his skeptical gaze lingering on her.   
  
He shrugged and poured a little tea into his mouth, thrumming with a satisfied little hum.   
  
“I like this more than the stuff you had at Len’s,” he told her cheerfully, “It’s good, thanks.”   
  
“Another gift from my folks,” Molly informed him, glancing at the half-assembled bed frame, brows pinching together slightly as something occurred to her.   
  
“It’s longer,” she observed. It was also much nicer than what she had before, which meant it cost him a pretty penny, “And there’s a second box?”   
  
“It came with a new mattress,” he shrugged.    
  
“Jesus, Vinth,” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, heart sinking, “That’s way too much.”   
  
It was a small fortune, is what it was. And it was big enough for him to lay on without his feet hanging over the edge, too. Which meant...   
  
_ Fuck _ .

Vinth was picking at the cuffs of his sleeves again.

“It was on sale,” he shrugged again, “And it was the least I could do.”   
  
“How much?” she set down her mug and hauled up her omni, scowling, “I’ll pay you-”   
  
“ _ Moll, _ ” Vinth’s hand was firmly clutched around her wrist, the tone of his voice commanding, difficult to resist. The same voice he used when he-   
  
She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally shoved the thrill she felt back down where it came from.   
  
_ No. _

“If you want to pay me back, fine, but save it until you’re out of that shit hole.”

That shit hole being  _ Red Nova _ . Molly sighed and relaxed, pulling her arm free and tipping her wrist back to hide her omni’s screen again.   
  
“Fine,” she grumbled, “But I’m paying you back.”   
  
“Fine,” he agreed. His tone was gentler than hers.   
  
They sipped their tea in silence, the scent of baking bread filling the room. Vinth eventually set down the empty measuring glass and returned to the bed frame, piecing together heavy wooden panels while Molly studied, occasionally peering over the top of her datapad to watch the progress.   
  
It  _ was _ a nice purchase. The study wooden frame housed two spacious drawers that she could empty her suitcase into, and it wouldn’t shake with every movement she made while she slept. No more creaky metal cot, no more fearing her bed might collapse in the middle of the night, and no more living out of a suitcase.   
  
_ That smooth son of a bitch _ .   
  
Over the course of their morning together, Vinth had transformed her chilly box of an apartment into something that felt almost like home. He was weaseling his way into her good graces far too easily.   
  
Sighing, Molly set her datapad aside and went to her small fridge. She could tell by the smell of the bread that it was almost ready, so she grabbed the butter dish and laid out some plates. She had just unscrewed the lid off the mason jar and dropped a spoon into the jam when the timer on her omni went off.   
  
“Perfect timing,” Vinth trilled happily. He had just finished packing away her tools and was straightening his back next to her new bed. Not a cot, but a proper small bed.   
  
_ That he can fit in. Smooth son of a bitch, where did the bumbling lug that I met get off to? _ _   
_ _   
_ Molly hummed her agreement and turned off the oven, pulling out the little loaf with a pleased grin. Once more Vinth came up behind her, but this time he chuckled. She looked back at him and tilted her head.   
  
“It looks just like your tattoo,” he answered her unspoken question.   
  
Her face lit up with a proud beam and pride swelled her chest as she held her arm aloft to compare the two.   
  
“Of course it does,” she boasted shamelessly, “I’ve mastered the recipe.”   
  
“Hmmm,” mock-skepticism flooded his flanged vocals, “We’ll see.”   
  
Once the bread had cooled enough, Molly tore off a chunk and buttered it, then spooned on some jam and handed it to Vinth. She did the same for herself and watched out of the corner of her eye as the turian popped the food into his mouth.   
  
His expression moved through a few very distinct emotions. First, doubt. She had wondered, with his palette, if the jam would be too sweet. Disappointment began to sink into her stomach like a stone until he tore himself a second chunk and dressed it with butter and jam before tossing it down the hatch again. He made a thoughtful sound, then his eyes brightened and his mandibles flicked.   
  
“Not bad,” he conceded, “The sweetness threw me, but the spices are pretty good!”   
  
Molly released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, then finally ate her own piece with a small smile settling neatly on her lips. The two continued to eat in silence until the loaf was gone.   
  
“So those were your grandmother’s recipes, huh?”   
  
Vinth was watching her with mild curiosity as she put away the jam, his mandibles cocked. She sounded a proud  _ mmhm _ as she tidied up, which elicited another chuckle.   
  
“No wonder you kept them so close. I’d like to try your whole arm...one day...”   
  
Vinth withered under the scrutiny of Molly’s arched brow. That phrasing went in a direction he clearly hadn’t intended.   
  
“Size queen,” she teased with a vicious grin. He simply groaned and buried his face in his hands instead of responding.   
  
“Okay,” she continued, “I’m hopping in the shower, then I’m getting ready for class. I’ve got a bit of time, but I’d rather get it out of the way now.”   
  
He didn’t really respond, just filled the room with subvocals she registered but couldn’t interpret. If she were to hazard a guess, Molly would say it had something to do with the sheer embarrassment of that last exchange.   
  
Once she was alone in her shower, the hot water began to wash away her good humour. She was again left with her worries, wondering what to do about Vinth.  _ Why _ did she have to be so impulsive? Vinth’s companionship had been comfortable, even welcome. Now he was a big fluorescent question mark, one that threatened to distract her from her studies.   
  
_ Is that really true? _   
  
The seed of a dangerous thought planted itself in Molly’s mind and began to take root. Scowling, she lathered her strawberry-basil shampoo and tried to ignore the voice that reminded her just how much Avinthus had actually helped her with her studies since they met, both intentionally and unintentionally.   
  
In particular, she lingered on the memory of him sleeping on her floor while she draped herself across him and studied. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest and she rinsed her shampoo, trying to resist. But...why did she have to? Because she had goals?

_ Are you really so inept a woman that you can’t balance getting to know somebody and starting a career? Plenty of people do it, and you’re better than plenty of people. _

An arrogant thought, sure, but Molly was never one to lack confidence.

A new spark was catching fire in Molly’s chest, a defiance that reminded her of what her grandmother had said many years ago. If she could rule the stars, then why  _ couldn’t _ she balance her career and her night job with whatever was happening between herself and Vinth?   
  
Just like that, a decision was made. Molly quickly dressed herself and drew most of the moisture out of her hair with a towel, then stormed out of the bathroom and towards Vinth, who was leaning against her counter and idly flicking through the news on his omni. He looked up and flicked his mandibles, trilling his curiosity at her charged mood.   
  
She had  _ planned _ on boldly kissing him right on his damned plated face, by way of a big  _ fuck you _ to all of her doubts. That plan was foiled by their considerable difference in height, however, so instead she huffed and crossed her arms.   
  
“Bend down,” she barked at him.   
  
“Did I...do something wrong?” he began fussing with his sleeves, mandibles jittering nervously.   
  
_ Wait to set the mood, Molly. Christ. _   
  
“Bend  _ down,  _ snowball.”   
  
This time he acquiesced, even if he was still confused. The moment he bent his knees to lower himself, Molly grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss, earning herself a startled chirp from the ridiculously tall turian.   
  
To Vinth’s credit, he  _ did _ catch on pretty quickly after the shock subsided. All at once his mouth opened so his tongue could push past her lips and tangle itself in hers, his hands gripping her waist.   
  
Doubts were still swirling around in the back of Molly’s mind. She had questions about who Vinth was and what the hell he was doing with his life. She worried about the timing of building a relationship, especially with a man of an entirely different species, while she was getting ready to start the next leg of her career. She worried about  _ Nova _ , about Leore and everybody else who worked there.   
  
There was plenty to worry about, to drag her into misery and let her stagnate alone in her sorry excuse for an apartment. But she was Tansy Thorne’s granddaughter, and like hell she was going to let any of that bullshit diminish her any longer.   
  
Molly let herself be swept up in Avinthus’ hungering passion as his talons pricked into the soft flesh of her waist. She gasped and melted into his touch, then grinned when she realized that faint traces of blueberry and clove still lingered on his tongue.   
  
“Hey, Vinth?”   
  
She pulled back, grey eyes focused on her new bed.   
  
He grunted, clearly displeased that she had interrupted their kiss. Or he was, until he realized where she was looking. Sleek mandibles pressed tight against his teeth as his eyes widened with anticipation.   
  
“Mm?” came his eloquent response.   
  
She made a show of checking her omni, grinning at the way his fingers twitched impatiently where they held her. She looked at the new bed again.   
  
“I’m not so sure about this new bed. It  _ looks  _ sturdy, sure,” she looked him square in the eye and arched a brow, “But how can I be sure? I’ve got time before I have to leave for cla-”   
  
Her speech was cut short by a delighted gasp and a bright peal of laughter that spilled from her mouth as Vinth swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the new wooden bed. It was clear from the moment she fell back on the new mattress that it was solid enough to handle what was about to happen, but why let that stop them?   
  
Molly was done with saying no.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avinthus spirals a little and so does his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I hit a stump and had to dig it up.

A flurry of emotions had begun storming in Avinthus following his night with Molly. Even in the wake of their blossoming friendship he could sense the walls she had built around herself, the walls she had so staunchly protected the first night he met her. He realized now that he had been relying on them as much as she had; if he wasn’t someone she needed or depended on, if he was just someone she tolerated, he could convince himself that his dishonesty wasn’t betrayal. That he wasn’t a villain in her story.  
  
It was getting harder to convince himself now that he was lying on his side in her bed, trailing the smooth backs of his talons along her delicate human flesh while the quiet sounds of her breathing filled the silence between them.

Molly was on her back with her head turned towards him while she slept, her forehead resting just beneath his keel. Her prone position left him free to admire her fragile, alien form as he pleased, so he traced his touch over her flat belly and up along the swell of her breasts, pausing when he reached the graceful arch of her neck so he could admire the shadows that pooled in the dips near her collarbone. She stirred lightly, causing him to freeze, but he relaxed when she sighed and continued to drift off.

Something like this would never have happened if she didn’t trust him at all, a truth that was painful to swallow. The thought snaked through Vinth to constrict his throat with long fingers, making it difficult to breathe, his heart thudding in his chest while he watched the small human swell and deflate with a contented sigh. She was oblivious to his turmoil, a small smile on her lips that was no doubt inspired by whatever dream she was lost in, and the stillness of her was such a contrast to the hammering of his heart that he had to will himself not to crumble into bitter laughter. Instead he studied every small detail of her face while she rested, willing himself to be calm as best he could while committing her smile to memory.  
  
Avinthus had decided shortly after she stormed out of her bathroom to kiss him that he would have to tell Molly the truth, and he knew that would spell the end of whatever was just beginning in her tiny apartment. It left him with a hollow ache in his chest to think about it, but enough was enough. She deserved better than the lie he was feeding her, and if that meant losing her, well…   
  
Sharp talons hooked into her hair, delicately pulling auburn tresses into his palm so he could close a fist around them and bring them towards his face. The strange, intoxicating bouquet of her shampoo was another memory he wanted to keep with him, in case this was his last chance to be close to her in such an intimate way. He had asked her what the scent was while buried deep in her heat less than an hour ago, when the sweet, herby perfume had flooded his senses as her hair fanned out beneath her. She had laughed, a smile carved into her flushed cheeks as she breathlessly answered, _ “Strawberry-basil,” _ before he nudged his hips forwards and watched her smile fall into a tiny, sensuous _ “oh” _ as she clenched him tightly with her sex.   
  
The memory woke a pleasant heat beneath his plates, and he found his pale blue eyes dipping to study Molly’s now-tranquil expression. The small human sleeping beside him was one who violently resisted companionship so she could devote herself to chasing after her dreams single-mindedly. She did not let people get to know her and she certainly never allowed them into the lonely box she lived in. That he was here, that she slept so peacefully beside him, was a blow to the gut as much as it was a point of pride for Avinthus.   
  
It also made him suspect that when she found out the truth, she would react to his betrayal with the same fervid passion that defined every other aspect of her life. Maybe a part of her would understand, and he hoped desperately that it would, but that still didn’t leave him with much hope for a future with Molly Thorne in it. And really, he didn’t believe he even deserved such a future. She had broken her rules and let the Avinthus Flos she thought she knew into her life, while the deceiver laying next to her gazed sadly at her sleeping figure, pitying himself. The wrongness of it made his plates itch with a sudden flush of humiliation.   
  
He released the silken threads of her auburn hair and watched it slip from his hold to fall on the pale expanse of her smooth skin. The bite marks he had left her with burned an angry red and purple along her shoulder, twisting his misery together with a territorial jolt of pleasure that burned behind his plates, tempting them to open. He pressed his mandibles tight to his face and swallowed, struggling to focus instead on the faint impressions of an old wound that spiderwebbed in thin lines across Molly’s chest.

He recalled the story she had told him about her skycar crash from years ago as the backs of his talons traced the intricate map of her scars. That salarian doctor of hers had done fine work for such a brutal wound to leave so little behind.

His exploration finally led to the ugly, yellowing bruise on her ribs that he knew Briggs was responsible for. Misery was replaced by a swell of protective rage and the turian ceased all exploration of her enticing form to drape an arm over her. He pressed his forehead to hers gently, careful not to wake her, when an insidious voice in the back of his head chided him and asked what he would do to protect her from _ his _ actions?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vinth felt his throat buzz with subvocals while he sang his silent confession. He told her the whole story with words she would never hear while his fist trembled slightly against her marked shoulder.  
  
“Vinth?”   
  
His eyes snapped open to find hers fluttering tiredly, roused from sleep by his pathetic display, no doubt. Another wave of sickening guilt coursed through him, but he held his tongue.   
  
“Sorry, snowball. I fell asleep on you. I-”   
  
Pale eyes watched her search for the right words while the heat of her thoughts tinged her pale skin a delicious shade of pink. If only he could properly enjoy the sight without a pit of misery sinking in his gut like a stone, this would be a moment he could thoroughly enjoy.   
  
“You needed to rest?” he teased, pushing past his bitter mood to make her roll her eyes at him playfully, “I wonder why.”   
  
After she blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, Molly fixed him with a scathing arch of her brow. It was a very human gesture that she had mastered, and he couldn’t help but wonder what unfortunate souls she had brought to their knees with that look in the past. For his part, however, Vinth was unaffected. He chuckled and playfully nipped the air near her ear, delighting in the way her skin bumped at the sound of his jaws snapping shut.   
  
“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” she grumped, pulling his face down with her tiny hands so he could rest his head on her strange, pillowy chest, “I have a feeling my alarm is going to go off any second now.”   
  
As he relaxed into her touch, Vinth couldn’t help the apologetic keen that slipped through in his subvocals. She brought a hand to rest on the side of his face, her touch warm against his plates while her flat voice hummed thoughtfully. He could feel the way her voice vibrated in her chest, resting on it as he was. It soothed him in ways he hadn’t realized it could.   
  
“You’re much more talkative when you know I can’t hear you,” she complained with a sigh, “I know I’m kind of a bitch, but you _ can _ talk to me, you know. I won’t bite your head off.”   
  
_ Of course. _

Why did Molly have such sharp ears? Was she just an exceptional human, or was it due to the time she spent around turian patients, classmates, and doctors? Even if she didn’t know what he was saying, sometimes she could detect his subvocals and he suspected she could occasionally recognize the tone he used as well. He could tell by the way she looked at him while he thrummed, her knowing eyes searching for the full meaning behind the second language she was mostly deaf to. He would have to be more careful moving forward. Avinthus had always been vocal, a bad habit intensified by his time spent around humans and asari on the Citadel. It was easy to talk to himself with subvocals when his days were spent in the company of aliens who would never hear him.

Vinth collected his miserable thoughts and forced a chuckle to roll out from his chest in place of his earlier keening. Playfully, he said, “And tell you all of the awful things I say behind your back?”

Molly snorted, but before she could reply the shrill chirp of her alarm sounded from her omnitool, cutting through the playful mood and signifying the end of their morning together. Vinth felt his breath catch, thoughts suddenly filled with images of a door slowly closing as he tried to make his way to it. This was it. This was the last of his time with her, he just knew it.   
  
Vinth pulled away and watched as she groaned at his teasing, turning over onto her side. With desperate, greedy hands he reached out and pulled her back against him, wrapping her up in his scarred limbs as he breathed into the crook of her neck. He wanted to keep her there in bed with him, wanted the spell to last a little longer. If they never left, things would never have to change, right?   
  
“You don’t have to go,” he growled lightly into her ear, relishing the way it made her squirm in his arms.   
  
“Funny,” she grumped, failing to hide the sultry drop in her voice, “You already convinced me to let you pay for a cab so we could stay a little longer. That’s all you’re getting, snowball… Today anyhow.”

The turian couldn’t stop the way his mandibles flared into a stupid smile as softness crept into his frigid little human’s voice. He buried his face in her hair to hide the dumb look on his face and reminded himself that Molly was not actually his. She belonged to nobody, save perhaps a work of fiction that he had presented her with. Shoulders slumping, he watched as she turned to detangle her hair from his facial plates, grey eyes bright with amusement when they met his. 

“This will take some getting used to,” she chuckled, rolling away from him so she could hunt for her clothes once more. It was a simple, straightforward sentence, but the idea that she wanted more of this ruined his heart even as it flushed him with primal satisfaction.  
  
He watched her go about her business with an appreciative hum sounding in his throat, shoving his dark mood back down again while admiring her nudity and the way her breasts pebbled when the cool temperature of her apartment swept over her. He was paying more attention to her body than to her ministrations, and realized too late that she had grabbed _ his _ shirt during her search. Something flew towards him and darkness swallowed Vinth as his face was assaulted by his own top. Molly’s laughter chased away the chill of her apartment while she watched him struggle to remove the shirt from his face. One of the sleeves had gotten hooked under the spines of his fringe and he was momentarily stuck, which inspired a quick crescendo in her laughing fit.   
  
“So smooth,” she jested when her laughter had eventually faded.

By the time he freed himself and narrowed his eyes at her, she was dressed.

_ That was quick _, the turian lamented, hauling his shirt on over his head for the second time that day.

Molly’s lips twisted up in a smug grin and she folded her arms over her chest, which he could now tell was contained by the cups she always strapped to herself. It was a shame that humanity saw it as lewd for a woman to let her breasts hang freely beneath her clothes in public, especially now that he knew what Molly looked like without her chest armour on.   
  
The knowledge that he was being watched burned beneath his plates, snapping Vinth out of his thoughts to look up at the small human’s masterfully arched brow. _ This _ time he felt something. He brought a large hand to his face so he could cough into it awkwardly, looking away from her chest.   
  
“Uh-huh,” came her admonishing tone as she tapped her foot haughty as hell, “So it seems men are pigs even across species.”   
  
“Uhhh,” he replied smartly. He didn’t know what a pig was, but he thought it safe to assume that wasn’t a compliment.

Molly huffed out a sigh and went to touch up her makeup in her bathroom mirror before continuing with a clipped, “Yes, men are all pigs. I can feel it in my repulsive flesh sacks.”

Avinthus barked a laugh despite himself, then finished getting dressed. He flicked open his omni and hailed a cab while the tiny human fussed over her hair, his taloned fingers slowly dragging over the interface as he tried to stretch out the last of their time together. Once more he found himself picturing a heavy set of doors slowly coming to a close, and he knew it was due to his fear of being locked out of Molly’s life once the truth was out.  
  
When the cab was summoned he sat on her new bed and watched her work in front of her mirror, his pale eyes hungrily devouring the sight of her, filing every detail of her looks and movements away in his mind. They would be memories to revisit later, while he tortured himself with thoughts of her and what could have been.

He realized as he watched her that for humans it was harder to disguise the signs of a good lay. Hair, clothes, makeup - it all had to be fixed afterwards and somehow traces of evidence still lingered. No matter how much she fussed over her looks, Molly still wore the signs of their encounter in the way her hair fell around her face and the slight smudging of makeup that she couldn’t chase away with a brush.

Or could it be that Vinth was just imagining those signs because he could smell himself on her? The recognition had him fussing with his talons as he mentally willed his plates to stay closed. His eyes never left Molly, and it was as though she read his mind when she reached for a bottle to spray a spicy, honeyed scent against her neck. In a matter of seconds she had erased the lingering traces of him from her person and he found himself fussing with the cuffs of his sleeves.  
  
He could see that door coming to a close again when he shut his eyes and his stomach lurched painfully at the thought.   
  
“Something on your mind?”   
  
Molly’s concerned voice pulled him away from his darkening thoughts, and he saw stormy grey eyes fixed on him from her bathroom. She had tied her hair up behind her head.   
  
Scrambling for something to answer her with, he fussed with the single spine in the centre of his fringe that flicked up and said, “What do you call your breast armour? I don’t know the name.”   
  
Silence stretched between the two as Molly’s hand slowly rose to her face so she could bury it in her palm, an exasperated sigh escaping between her fingers. A successful deflection.   
  
“A bra, snowball. It’s called a bra,” her voice was muffled by her fleshy hand.   
  
“Why do you have to wear them?”   
  
“For a variety of political reasons. And chafing,” she sighed, retreating from her palm just in time for Vinth’s omni to buzz and alert them to the skycar waiting outside.   
  
Vinth’s curiosity towards her answer was snuffed out by the vision of that door shutting in his head. He swore he could feel the hollow thud echo through his chest.

This was it, then. He stood closed the gap between himself and Molly, taking her bag from her hands to sling over one of his broad shoulders and reaching for the hair she had tied up with a heavy elastic band. She looked up at him, grey eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he studied the soft waves of the locks in his palm. He knew she could sense his sour mood by the way she appraised him and the downward turn of her full, silken lips.

“I like it down,” he said before she could voice whatever question he could see her mouth parting to ask.  
  
Her gaze dropped bashfully for a moment, and when she looked up again he had released her hair and was already turning towards the door to haul on his boots. They exited her apartment in silence, but as they made their way to the elevator Vinth felt something small and warm against his hand.

Startled, he looked down to see Molly staring straight ahead with her chin squared in defiance, a stubborn frown firmly in place. Dropping his pale gaze down further, he saw her hand clasped around his large palm and inhaled sharply, involuntarily flexing his fingers around hers.

“Not a word,” the tiny human cautioned, “Don’t let this go to your head.”  
  
He chuckled and let her tiny fingers lace through his, their imperfect three and five matching a little more comfortably now that he had gotten used to it. When he glanced her way again, he noticed that all of her attitude had melted away, leaving a small smile in its wake. Guarded though it was, it made his heart hammer in his chest.   
  
He had to tell her the truth, and soon. First, though, he would need advice.   
  
Unfortunately, there was only one place where he would find it. 

* * *

When Molly left the cab she planted a kiss on his mandible before the door shut behind her. He could still feel the warm press of her lips as though the sensation of her had been tattooed on him.

Vinth was now walking through the upper reaches of Tayseri ward’s posh residential area towards Filana’s apartment, his talons touching his mandible gently where Molly had kissed him. He ignored the looks his bare face earned him amongst the snooty citizens of Lana’s block and instead tried his best to quell the sick feeling in his stomach. His feet knew the way to the asari’s apartment by now, and he relied on them to carry him there while his mind wandered back through the events of the past 24 hours.

Briggs had to break, and quickly, but Avinthus had no idea how to make that happen without more of Molly’s people getting caught in the crossfire. Filana was his only hope: they were clever, their tech was remarkable, and while they weren’t exactly quiet about how they felt regarding Vinth playing cop, he knew they had a soft spot for him. For what he was going through.  
  
Once he arrived outside their building, he punched the code Lana had given him to get inside their apartment building, then took the stairs to their floor in lieu of the elevator. The burn in his muscles felt good and helped him to work off his stress.

He hurried to Lana’s apartment as soon as he reached their floor, keeping his eyes down. Residents of this building always looked at him like he was a criminal when he came here, so he was eager to get inside before he ran into anyone.

The scent of expensive flowers wafted through the cycled air, drawing his thoughts back to Molly and her colourful tattoos as he rung the buzzer for Lana’s apartment. He wondered idly if any of the cut flowers decorating the building were captured in the images on her skin just as the door he stood in front _ hissed _ open.

“Oh, Avinthus!”  
  
The small asari startled him out of his thoughts and beamed up at him, their tone and smile sugary-sweet. Vinth felt his stomach sink as they invited him in, kindly herding him through the door with a gentle hand on the small of his back.   
  
_ This won’t be good _.

Lana was always sweetest when they were preparing to strike. 

“What a pleasant surprise for you to show up so _ unexpectedly _ ,” they continued, eyes crinkling in the corners as their winsome smile blossomed, radiant and so deceptively cheerful.   
  
The door shut and Vinth couldn’t help but straighten his back a little in anticipation, instincts that had been instilled in him from birth taking over as he readied himself for a verbal lashing from a superior.   
  
_ Spirits, fuck me. When did I start thinking of them as a superior? _   
  
Filana had the innate qualities of a leader and carried themself as such. As much as they were an acerbic bitch wrapped up in sweetness, Vinth knew the asari possessed a brilliant mind and the rare sort of charisma that could have a krogan eating out of their hand with the slightest effort. The soldier in him responded automatically to their authority, and he found he now needed to remind himself that he didn’t actually answer to them.   
  
He was lead into their kitchen, where a steaming mug filled with human coffee rested untouched on a stone-topped island beside a small drone with its wired guts exposed. He had disturbed Lana during their tinkering.

_ Maybe Briggs won’t be the end of me after all. _

Lana sat before their drone and gestured for Vinth to take the stool opposite them, lilac eyes appraising him while they sipped their coffee. They smiled gently and Vinth struggled to meet their gaze, compelled to pluck at the cuffs of his sleeves. He resisted, however, as the talons of his right hand were still pressed into his mandible where Molly had kissed him. Lana’s scrutiny lingered on that hand, brows raising with mild curiosity before they let their train of thought go and met his eyes instead.  
  
“So what brings the _ esteemed _ Avinthus Flos to my apartment unannounced so early in my cycle _ on my day off? _ ” they asked with a saccharine tone, peering at him over the rim of their coffee cup, “What could have inspired such an intrusive _ ‘fuck you’ _ towards this humble little asari?”   
  
There it was. Vinth winced, waiting for them to continue: they liked to leave room for him to speak up just to cut him off as he opened his mouth. He eyed them suspiciously as the seconds ticked away, until enough time had passed that he felt there was no option _ but _ to speak.   
  
So he answered, or tried to. The moment Vinth opened his mouth Filana continued, the turian’s eyes flashing with annoyance as he cursed them in his thoughts.   
  
“Of course it isn’t enough that I give you my tech,” they purred, fluttering blue lashes at him, “At the risk of losing my job, mind you. C-sec wouldn’t take kindly to me aiding a wanna-be vigilante who’s succeeding at little more than pissing off one of the more volatile crime bosses in Bachjret ward, after all. And now I have to sacrifice my me time, too? Fuck you, Flos. Out with it.”   
  
How did the spirits-damned asari manage to sound so kind while they cursed his name? Again he opened his mouth to respond, and again they cut him off, wearing his patience dangerously thin.   
  
“Out with it, my pet,” Filana gently urged, sounding so much like Vinth’s kindly late grandmother that it made his plates itch.   
  
“Briggs needs to go down, fast,” he growled, finally settling into the stool opposite Lana.   
  
Their brows rose at that, as he was normally taciturn and withdrawn in their company. They gave him another once-over, sharp lilac gaze lingering on the talons touching his mandible. For the first time since he parted ways with Molly he let his hand drop, then pressed on.   
  
“It’s gotten worse, Lana,” his voice dripped with disdain, subvocals humming a battlesong, “He almost killed one of the girls there. We’re not going to break him, we’re just going to keep pissing him off until someone-”   
  
“Dies?”   
  
The cold tone of their voice cut him off, and when he met their gaze the boredness he saw there roused something ugly and primal in him. His mind was flooded with images of the women at _ Nova _ he had gotten to know through Molly, as well as the memory of Molly’s bruised ribs and the fear that shithole inspired in her. The massive turian gripped the stone top of the island he was sitting at, talons digging shallow trenches in the surface as he turned his head with a mandible cocked to show off his teeth. Vinth was pissed, and he wanted Lana to see just how poorly their shitty attitude was being received. How _ dare _ they look so unfeeling where Molly’s safety was concerned?   
  
“Calm down, Flos,” Lana sighed, not intimidated in the slightest by his brutish display, “I’m not condoning the bastard, just reminding you that I warned you when you started this half-baked plan of yours that people would get hurt. You wouldn’t listen back then, and you didn’t seem to care about Briggs’ people either, so what’s changed? You lose your stomach for violence or what?”   
  
He didn’t respond, simply glared into Filana’s deceptively gentle expression and bit back the urge to inform her that Molly Thorne was _ not _ one of Briggs’ people.   
  
“Or are you sweet for one of those girls?”   
  
He hated the way he involuntarily flexed his talons, if only because he knew Filana caught it. They didn’t say so, but he knew it to be true all the same. The asari sighed once more, leaning forward to rest their chin in their hand.   
  
“Then give up,” they continued, tiredness seeping into their tone, “You always knew this was a shit plan and there was no guarantee it would work, so why-”   
  
Vinth’s threatening growl cut off Lana’s words, causing them to snap their sharp gaze back to his again. Without so much as flinching, they reached their free hand to the tap in the island sink and turned the handle to let the water flow. With a saintly air, they dropped their fingers to let the water wash over them, eyes never leaving Vinth’s baleful glare. When they flicked the water towards him, they watched with a satisfied smirk as he jumped out of his seat with a disgruntled yelp.   
  
“What the fuck?” he snarled as the wooden stool tipped over and clattered on the tile, “Spirits, Lana, what the fuck?”   
  
“Threaten me like that in my own home again,” came their honeyed response, lashes fluttering in an alien display of innocence, “And I will fucking end you, Flos. Now. Are you willing to be a good little turian and _ listen _ to the only one in the room with any bit of sense?”

Mandibles tight to his face, Vinth leaned back with a hip cocked and folded his arms, never breaking eye contact even as water dripped from his brow plates and mandibles. After a few long seconds he offered the asari a curt nod. Appeased, Filana pressed on.  
  
“Good,” they nodded in response, acting for all the world like they were speaking to a child with behavioural issues. A bold attitude for an asari in their maiden years, but that was typical for Filana.   
  
“I have an idea, but a lot of that is going to hinge on your relationship with this stripper you’re sweet on,” they paused, noticing Vinth’s sharp inhalation and allowing him a moment to seethe before asking, “Is she smart?”   
  
“She’s brilliant,” he spat out before he could stop himself. What power did Molly Thorne have over him, that he had no control over himself just _ thinking _ about her?   
  
“Good,” Lana said again, their expression thoughtful, “And do you trust her to help us, or is she loyal to the LT?”   
  
Avinthus deflated under the weight of that question, his hands dropping from his chest to fuss with his cuffs as he looked over Lana’s shoulder to stare at their fridge. He didn’t know how to answer that question because he didn’t know if Molly would even be able to look at him once she knew the truth. Even if she hated Briggs, he wasn’t sure she’d risk her own safety or the safety of any of her people to help Vinth. Maybe if he had been honest from the start…   
  
“Does she know anything already?”   
  
He shook his head and Lana cursed, their voice lilting with words his translator couldn’t quite catch. The tone was unmistakable, however, and Vinth ran the pads of his fingers along the large middle tine of his fringe, the one that flicked up at the end.   
  
“Do you think she’d sell you out, then?”   
  
“No,” he answered before he had even properly considered it. A part of him feared that she _ would _ sell him out if it meant saving her girls from Briggs’ wrath, and yet when he closed his eyes and recalled the warmth of her lips pressing into his mandible, he knew that she would never do something that would get him killed. Or he _ felt _ he knew it, at least.   
  
“Then try talking to her. I’ve got a prototype I’m developing for C-Sec that’s like something straight out of a spy vid,” Lana allowed themself a smug grin, their sickly-sweet disguise dropping away to reveal a glimpse of their true colours, “It looks like a ring and when it’s close enough to an omnitool, datapad or terminal it will attempt to bypass security and download everything it can access. Briggs relies on brawn more than brain, I doubt his gear is sophisticated enough to keep this thing from downloading all of his intel. Your little dancer just needs to get her hand on his wrist and we’ll have his files, passwords, you name it. The ring will be paired to her tool, so the data will be forwarded to you long before that idiot ‘LT’ ever catches on.”   
  
Vinth wanted to smash Lana’s face into the expensive stone top of their kitchen’s island for suggesting that he should send Molly to face Briggs alone, but instead he just huffed a sigh and said, “That doesn’t sound real.”   
  
Filana just grinned wickedly, arrogance dripping from their tongue as they replied with a simple, “I know.”   
  
He wanted to stomp the stool that had fallen behind him into splinters and storm out, cursing Lana’s name all the while, but he knew their plan was better than anything he could ever come up with. Having Briggs’ data meant finding the traitorous bastard that got Veritas killed. It also meant Lana would be equipped with hard evidence that could nail Briggs, and they had assured Vinth long ago that they knew exactly who in C-sec to bring it to. There were plenty of crooked cops on the Citadel, but some were the type of crooked that meant dancing through red tape and currying the kind of favour that got criminals locked up even with illegally-acquired evidence.   
  
That promise was the only reason Vinth hadn’t just gotten Briggs alone to beat the intel out of him and leave him for dead in the first place. Filana told him it was plain stupid to risk murder charges when there were other ways for Vinth to get the answers he needed, and while he didn’t listen to all of their advice, he _ had _ listened to that at least.   
  
Now that he knew what he was going to ask of Molly he wished he had just beaten the bastard to death in the first place.

Lana seized their victory when they saw Vinth deflate, recognizing that it meant he would acquiesce to their scheming. They left the kitchen to fetch their prototype and the two spent the next few hours going over how to work it so Avinthus could teach Molly if she agreed to help.

He said a silent prayer to the spirits for her to refuse, fearing that sending her to Briggs meant sending her to her death. Occasionally he entertained the idea of going to the man himself, but the ring wouldn’t fit him and he knew that Molly, at least, would have Valla. She was more likely to survive out of the two of them, and she had proven that she could protect herself. And if they could pull it off? That meant he could find the traitor responsible for Veritas’ death. His want for that rivalled his need to protect Molly, it burned in him with renewed vigour now that Lana had presented him with a real chance to finally get the answers he sought.

* * *

Hours later Vinth was back in his hotel room, pacing restlessly in front of the large window that gave an impressive view of the Bachjret horizon. Most people paid good money for rooms like his. They would wine and dine in front of the glass, marvelling at the kaleidoscopic sea of neon lights that transformed the endless sprawl of uniform buildings into a work of art. The Citadel was the most impressive structure he had ever laid eyes on, but Avinthus had never taken the time to admire the view.

The only thing on his mind as he paced over the plush carpet in his expensive hotel room was Molly Thorne and what he could possibly say to her to convince her to help him take out Briggs once she knew the truth about him and why he had ever set foot in _ Red Nova _ in the first place. He was still warring between getting justice for his brother and keeping her safe and removed from his plan while he worked a trench into the carpet with his urgent steps, fists clenched at his side.   
  
Eventually, when it came time to get ready, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the gleaming, white-tiled shower. He let the hot water run over his plates, soaking into his hide in a weak attempt to soothe the tension that pulled his muscles taut and caused him to breathe in short, shallow breaths.   
  
It didn’t help.   
  
He cruised through the rest of his ritual on auto-pilot, dressing himself in clean clothes and hauling on his boots while his subvocals rang with a desperate plea for mercy for his ruined soul. When he finally stepped out of the cab in front of _ Nova _ , ice was creeping through his veins. Each step he took towards the run-down building felt sluggish, and the bass that pounded from the music inside hammered along with his panicked heart.   
  
Avinthus was running through endless scenarios in his head, trying to think of all the things Molly would say to him and how he would respond.   
  
Maybe that was why he didn’t notice the two armoured humans glaring at him from within the crowd at _ Nova _ , guns at their hips and lips twisted into disgusted frowns as they watched him walking to the bar. Or maybe it was because his pale gaze swept desperately through the throng of bodies, searching for the silken waves of auburn hair that hung behind the small back and wide hips he had gotten to know so intimately.   
  
Regardless, he was clueless up until the moment he felt the cool, familiar bite of metal pressing into the side of his neck as gloved hands forced his wrists together behind his back. It wasn’t the first time the muzzle of a gun had been shoved into him, which was why it was so easy for him to relax and let his captors guide him away without making a scene.   
  
“Finally figured it out, huh?” his tone was bored despite the way his guts twisted with fear, and he felt his wrist twist painfully in the ruthless grip of one of Briggs’ prized idiots.   
  
“Maybe think of a fake name next time,” the voice that snarled in his aural canal was delivered on a sickening wave of stale breath laced with cheap tobacco. Vinth giddily thought that he preferred the scent of strawberry-basil shampoo.   
  
“Thanks for the tip.”   
  
A heavy fist connected with his waist, sending a surge of pain crashing violently through him and buckling the massive turian with one hit. His mandibles pulled tight to his face while his captors held him upright, deaf to the threatening hum of his subvocals as they dragged him through a set of doors and past a room that smelled of cheap perfume and sweat. _ The changing room _ , his mind supplied helpfully, and as the doors opened he swore the spirits had heard his thoughts. The familiar bouquet of Molly’s shampoo wafted out, flooding him with a surge of protective instincts that silenced his subvocals. He feared that her wickedly sharp ears might hear him and send her running to him.   
  
Thankfully she never did, and he didn’t have to find out what would happen if she tried to free him from his captors’ clutches. He was shoved into an elevator, his side throbbing painfully and his heart hammering so loudly he wondered if the stoic meatheads flanking him could hear it or if they were as deaf to the sound as they were to the threatening hum of his subvocals. It was impossible for him to silence them once he knew there was no chance Molly could hear him, and the amusement it gave him to speak so liberally unbeknownst to them helped to keep him from spiralling into pure, animalistic terror.   
  
When he was finally dragged out of the elevator, he found himself in a lavish office with a full view of _ Red Nova _ from behind the tinted panels that lined an entire side of the room. On the wall opposite the elevator, Briggs stood behind a desk with a thunderous expression, scowling at Vinth with murder in his dark eyes.   
  
Valla was standing in front of his desk, her mouth drawn in a thin line as she fought to keep herself from looking at him. A huge, ugly welt had swollen one of her eyes shut and her hands were clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. Whether it was out of fear or fury he couldn’t tell, but he knew by the defeat etched into every curve of her stocky, muscular form that he wouldn’t find an ally in her.   
  
He was in the varren’s den completely alone and unarmed, and Briggs had weeks of paranoia, stress, and fury boiling within that barreled chest of his. Resignation relaxed Vinth’s muscles within the iron grip of the humans holding him in place. He had spent so long working Briggs into a frenzy to break him that he knew what awaited him in those meaty fists would reduce him to a hideous pulp before the mercy of death was granted to him.   
  
His intense, pale gaze met Briggs’ and he felt his stomach churn as the bastard’s lips curled upwards in a vicious sneer. A part of Vinth was raging, urging him to fight back and put this monster in his place for daring to put his hands on Molly, for his involvement in Veritas’ death. That furious voice was quickly snuffed out, however, as he realized that if he endured whatever pain Briggs would bring down on him that he would be reunited with his brother soon enough.   
  
Avinthus’ head dipped forward and his mandibles flicked open in a tired smile.   
  
_ I’ll be with you soon enough, Veri. _


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly struggles with her feelings and makes a memorable first impression on a very important person in her field of study.

The scent of antiseptics was like a killswitch to Molly’s turbulent thoughts. Even knowing this, she trudged towards the Siel’iphrae School of Xenomedicine, her mind an occluded front of excitement and terror swirling together so violently she feared it might bring her to her knees. Despite her boldness over the past twenty-four hours, being alone to dwell on her actions was leaving room for doubt to take root. That doubt was an insidious sort of familiar comfort, like an itchy blanket that she pulled around her shoulders to feel safe and warm no matter how much it made her skin crawl.   
  
Still letting herself get swept up in a storm of uncertainties felt right in this situation. Her gut was screaming to remind her that she had more or less thrown herself at a stranger. A kind stranger with spectacular sexual intuition and delightfully strong arms, but a stranger nonetheless. Molly’s face tugged into a frown when the realization settled over her, and by the time she crossed through the sliding glass doors for the campus clinic, icy roots began creeping into her chest and cutting her breath short.

Thankfully, the moment she breathed in the sterile bouquet of disinfectants and chemical cleaners the tension dropped from her shoulders and her gait shifted into the steady strut of a professional woman. It was like flipping a switch - there was work to be done and her childish feelings would only get in the way, so it was time to become someone else.

She fished her ID out of her bag and slung it around her neck, nodding at a hanar orderly as she passed through the waiting room filled with blank-faced patients from all walks of life who were tired of waiting for their number to be called. The young woman angled her face downwards, avoiding eye contact. The moment someone saw her ID badge their eyes turned hungry, trying to grab her attention so they could pry some medical advice out of her. She didn’t have time for that this morning, so she walked with purpose until she reached a heavy metal door that required a key card.

Swiping her ID had the door opening with a silky pneumonic hum, revealing a bustling corridor filled with nurses, med students, and a kindly turian janitor who had once offered her a piece of candy when he found her sleeping over a datapad in his supply closet before an exam. He winked at her when she passed him, a gesture he had no doubt picked up from watching the human students and patients in the Siel’iphrae clinic, and she offered him a rare smile in return.   
  
“Thorne!”

A twitchy salarian was poking his head out of a doorway further down the corridor and Molly’s smile quickly vanished, leaving a perfectly deadpan face in its wake. She would leave no scraps of emotion to bait the sharks in her program, especially not this one. He seemed a twitching, eager brat during first impressions, but Kormae Rivix was cutthroat and brilliant, the type of personality that made a perfect candidate for any surgical program. He was Molly’s biggest competition and the only other student in her graduating class that had been accepted into Huerta’s surgical internship program.  
  
“Rivix,” she replied in perfect monotone, “Someone drop a cadaver on your doorstep this morning? I haven’t seen you this chipper since we got our acceptance into Huerta.”   
  
Nonplussed, Rivix rolled his shockingly green eyes with an air of drama she knew meant he was in a _ very _ good mood, then waved her into a small room. It was bare, but cozy enough. The small space was fitted with a large table, some chairs, and a counter with a sink and a separate percolators for coffee and _ kava _. Rivix and a stocky turian woman had claimed the table, covering every inch in data pads. The turian, Xiphias, grunted her greeting without looking up from her studies when Molly breezed into the room to drop her bag on a chair.

“Cramming?” she asked, heading straight for the coffee pot and reaching up for one of many nondescript white mugs from the small shelf above the counter, “Mock exams today, yeah?”  
  
“Practical and written,” Rivix answered for their turian classmate, grinning as he watched Molly rise to the tips of her toes in order to grab a mug, “That’s not why I waved you down.”   
  
Something about his tone made Molly stop what she was doing so she could face him. She gave him a long, calculating look, measuring him from his booted toes to the tip of his chocolate-brown head with its striking cream-coloured spots. A quick observation found that his twitchiness was decidedly more lively today. He had _ pep _ . Kormae Rivix, the most arrogant son of a bitch on the Citadel, had traded his insufferable superiority for genuine excitement and she didn’t know how to take that.   
  
_ Huh _ .   
  
The giddy salarian took her silence as an invitation to keep speaking and stepped towards the open door of the little break room, searching the corridor briefly before pulling back inside and pacing.   
  
“Dr. Vivolo Quostis is on campus,” came the long-awaited explanation, and even Molly felt excitement chipping away at her very stoic mask. She snatched her mug and held it tight against her stomach, hanging on the salarians’ words with rapt attention, “She stopped by to assist Dr. Helera with a surgical consultation. There’s a turian with some pretty severe fused plates in the clinic. We’re talking _ living statue _ here. He let it get bad, real bad, and somehow got it in his head that a teaching clinic was his best option! Great for us, isn’t it?”   
  
There was a loud huff from the table, pulling both Molly’s and Kormae’s attention. Xiphias was looking up at them, silvery eyes narrowed and mandibles flush to her face. At their questioning glances, the turian straightened her back and stretched.   
  
She growled her explanation with her nasal plates scrunched in a distinctly turian grimace, “Probably thinks students are allowed to treat patients and came here hoping someone would fuck up and kill ‘em.”   
  
“Jesus, Tirreste,” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, trying desperately to ignore the stupid grin on Kormae’s face, “The hell is wrong with you?”   
  
“Nothing,” the turian spat back, rolling her large shoulders before shoving her face back into her datapads, “Which is why I’d never let myself get that bad. Idiot probably needs someone to wipe his ass.”   
  
“Xiphias Tirreste,” Molly finally turned to fill her cup, “your bedside manner is going to be legendary.”   
  
“Not at anybody’s bedside, am I?” came the grunting response, prompting a shrill laugh from Rivix, “And the scrawny one likes it when I’m honest.”   
  
“Because the scrawny one is a twisted son of a bitch who only gives a shit about himself.”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
Sipping her coffee, Molly turned and faced the offended salarian, brow arching over the lip of her mug. Rivix put on the air of a slighted man, his lips dropping into a dramatic scowl before tossing his shoulders.   
  
“Can you blame me? I’m at the top of my class and look like _ this _.”

He gestured at himself, posing _ just so _ despite the tortured groans that escaped his audience. Tirreste resumed her studies, though it was impossible to miss the way she glanced over at the arrogant wad with an appreciative flick of her mandibles. Poor thing. Gruff and unforgiving as she was, Tirreste had a delicate, squishy soft spot for their salarian classmate, one that he was aware of and exploited daily.

It was _ almost _ enough for Molly to pity the girl, but the way Tirreste looked down on the rest of the world was just as insufferable as Rivix. The two jerks made a perfect pair, what with their matching holier-than-thou attitudes, sizeable trust funds, and cutthroat personalities. Because of them it was impossible to trust anyone in the program, but it was also impossible to deny the advantages of their company.   
  
Molly, Rivix, and Tirreste were the top students in their graduating class. All three were hungry, competitive, and driven, and all three of them worked better in each others’ company. They pushed each other to excellence even if they held no love for each other, so they often studied together during Molly’s campus hours.   
  
On top of that, Rivix was an incorrigible gossip and as such he was often a reliable source of information from the world of xenomedicine. Many members of his family were established in the field, and while he kept the most useful gossip clutched tightly to his chest, he also shared anything he knew was sure to impress his peers. Things Molly _ wanted _ to know, things she could use to get ahead.   
  
Things like the most lauded surgeon on the Citadel, who happened to work at the hospital where Molly and Rivix would both be interning in a little over two months, was currently on campus to pluck a patient out of the school clinic and into her capable talons. If he agreed to corrective surgeries it would be a big, shiny feather in Dr. Quostis’ cap.   
  
More importantly, if he agreed to corrective surgeries then he’d be an ongoing project, one that either herself or Rivix could even have a chance at scrubbing in on. Which begged the question: why was Rivix here telling her about it instead of out brown nosing?   
  
As though he had read her mind, Rivix sighed and leaned on the table where Tirreste was poring over datapads. The scant trace of a smirk twitched in the corners of his mouth when the turian let out a startled trill before hunching over her studies defensively, as if to protect herself from whatever it was the twitchy bastard made her feel.   
  
“Dr. Helera wouldn’t let me near the patient or Dr. Quostis,” he explained, his eyes never leaving Tirreste or her uncomfortable squirming, “Not while they were working. Said she’d bring her around for introductions if there was time, an exception she’d only make because of my placement at Huerta.”   
  
_ Which means I’ll get to meet her too, if Rivix is telling the truth. _   
  
There had to be something he wasn’t saying, otherwise she was sure he’d try to misdirect her. Perhaps he had already met Dr. Quostis and was trying to trick her into hiding away in a break room?   
  
Molly masked her probing gaze by sipping her coffee, grey eyes peeping over the rim of the mug while Rivix picked up a datapad and joined Tirreste in her studies.   
  
“I’m not lying,” the salarian grumbled without looking up, flexing his uncanny talent for reading her mind, “They’re gonna come ‘round before the mocks.”   
  
The hint of bitterness in his voice piqued her curiosity, but it wasn’t worth investigating. Rivix had a habit of getting pissy if anyone pointed out weak spots in his suave persona, and a pissy Kormae Rivix was the most insufferable of all. So instead Molly fished in her bag for her datapad and leaned back against the counter, sipping her coffee while she fell into her studying.   
  
She typically did her pre-class studying in the cafeteria on clinic days, as the coffee there was always stronger than the stuff in the break room, but something about Rivix’s bitter tone made his claims believable. If this was where he was waiting to meet Dr. Vivolo Quostis, then she’d suffer his and Tirreste’s company for as long as necessary.   
  
The three of them studied in silence for nearly half an hour, with minor interruptions coming by way of Rivix “accidentally” brushing his hand against Tirreste’s while reaching for a datapad or a glass of water. She would shiver, he’d smirk, and the room would grow still again. Not for the first time since they had all started Siel’iphrae’s xenomedicine program together, Molly found herself wondering if the only reason Rivix scored higher on his exams than his besotted turian classmate was because of the way he tortured her when they studied together.   
  
The way Tirreste was struggling to focus made her feel confident in her hypothesis. It was almost a shame, but if she couldn’t play the game then Molly wasn’t about to waste any energy on pitying the damn fool. Her classmates’ failures just created opportunities for her to shine, and she was not about to squander any opportunity that came her way.   
  
That included an encounter with Dr. Quostis.   
  
Her coffee finished, Molly set down her datapad and her mug on the counter and massaged her temples. She had seen the turian doctor in vids on the extranet, discussing groundbreaking procedures as casually as one would the weather. Dr. Quostis had the personality of a spring breeze: she was warm, delightful, and never seemed to have a care in the world. She moved with patience and elegance, and watching her surgeries one could easily feel as though the woman had the ability to slow time. The fact that she appeared almost lackadaisical while her hands danced inside a patient’s guts so quickly they looked a blur was breathtaking.   
  
So how in the hell was Molly supposed to make a good impression on someone like _ that? _   
  
The vivacious little spider of a woman who danced along silks had been left behind when she left Earth. Years of keeping herself closed off had left her festering in her loneliness. She had swaddled herself so tightly in her solitude that it served as a cacoon, metamorphosing her into the guarded and charmless creature she now felt herself to be.   
  
Sure, she could ham it up for the clients at _ Nova _ , but the lascivious clientele of a low class skin bar were easy to please. How in the hell was she supposed to prove herself worthy of _ the _ Dr. Vivolo Quostis’ attention?   
  
The sound of a polite, feminine _ hemhem _ startled Molly from her thoughts. She snapped to attention, looking up to find Dr. Helera studying her top students with a proud smile. All three of them instinctively fixed their posture, eager to make a good impression.   
  
Their asari mentor nodded her approval before holding a hand out, gently urging them to relax without uttering so much as a word.   
  
“Prepping for the mocks this afternoon?”   
  
It never ceased to amaze Molly how easily that woman commanded respect. She was a willowy, soft-spoken creature who never once raised her voice in the four years they had studied under her. She spoke with the saccharine tones of an innocent maiden and looked the part as well, despite having lived for many centuries now.   
  
Even so, every one of her students instinctively fell in line when she entered a room. It was remarkable that authority came naturally to a woman who for all the world looked and carried herself like a living blue flower.

Rivix was the first to respond, dipping his head respectfully as he said, “Of course, Dr. Helera. If I am to be worthy of Huerta, then now is the time to prove myself.”  
  
_ Insufferable _.

“Admirable words, kid.”  
  
_ That voice. I know that voice! _   
  
All three students fidgeted and straightened their spines, eagerly peering over Dr. Helera’s small shoulder until she laughed and stepped aside, revealing the most striking turian Molly Thorne had ever laid eyes on. Or second most, she realized, recalling the scent of gunsmoke and the alluring shine of a fractured carapace held together by the delicate veins of the _ conigo _ method.   
  
_ No, no! Not now, don’t think of him right now _ , she kicked herself mentally. Now was the time for good first impressions, not fantasizing about alien men with deep, rumbling voices and-   
  
_ Enough _ .   
  
When she finally managed to shove all thoughts of Vinth aside, she realized that Dr. Quostis’ eyes were on her, despite the fact that Rivix was regaling the surgeon with a story about how one of his uncles once anesthetized a patient of hers. The look on that arrogant bastard’s face when the doctor cut him off with a breezy, “Ah, yes, Brellin Rivix. Proud guy, hard to work with,” was the single most satisfying thing since, well, her night - _ and morning _ , her traitorous brain reminded her - with Avinthus.   
  
_ Christ, woman, get it together! _   
  
“You must be Molly Thorne, then.”   
  
That was all it took to send Molly reeling. Her grey eyes flared wide open and she blinked, hard, her tongue suddenly heavy in her mouth. How could she speak when her tongue was a lead weight and the english language suddenly escaped her? Silent seconds stretched out long enough for Rivix to turn backwards and glance down at her, sly condescension twitching into a horrible little smirk as he watched her freeze, a deer in the headlights.   
  
In that moment, though, she could kiss him for it. The salarian’s grating personality sparked a bellyful of hateful fire to life, an anger that burned away the hesitation she felt. Kormae Rivix had his uses.   
  
“Yes, Dr. Quostis,” she finally replied, offering her most professional smile and bobbing her head politely, “It’s an honour to meet you.”   
  
A chime of laughter left the esteemed turian and she cocked a hip, arms folding over her chest as she appraised the tiny human woman with bright, blue eyes. Molly flushed at the inspection, but she didn’t look away or falter. Instead she took the opportunity to truly take in Dr. Quostis’ exceptional beauty. The turian woman was tall and slim, with unparalleled poise and a youthful glimmer in her blue eyes that made it difficult to look anywhere else. It would be a shame, however, not to appreciate the rest of her.   
  
Quostis’ plates were pale grey, though they darkened near the edges, blending them into her darker, slate-coloured hide. The overall result made it seem as though she had commanded a river of smoke to snake along her body and harden into her natural armour, an idea that didn’t seem too removed from the scope of reality when one considered just how _ captivating _ she was.   
  
Like Dr. Helera, she immediately grabbed the attention of a room without so much as a word or a gesture. Molly didn’t have to look at her peers to know they were as rapt as she, their eyes trained on the brilliant surgeon and their shoulders set proudly so as to make a good first impression.   
  
Mandibles flaring into a good-natured smile, Dr. Quostis tilted her head to one side, drawing Molly’s attention to her face, which was framed by a speckling of grey-blue that appeared periwinkle in colour thanks to the pale field it dotted. The colour matched the blue gleam of her thulium-rich plates, creating an effect that reminded Molly of moonstones. Even knowing Quostis was older than her parents by nearly a decade, some small part of the tiny human couldn’t help but feel a giddy desire to be noticed by the tall, elegant woman.   
  
“Farrhe operated on you years ago, did he not?” the surgeon pried gently, her warm tone and the knowing glint in her eyes making it clear that she knew Molly’s mind had wandered. She handled the fawning with the grace of a seasoned vet, however, and politely continued her conversation as though nothing had happened, “One of my colleagues mentioned as much when we, ah, reviewed the applications from Siel’iphae.”   
  
The familiar ground knocked Molly back into her senses and she nodded, a little smile quirking up the corners of her lips as she processed Quostis’ words. Neither she nor any of her colleagues would have been privy to Huerta’s hiring process, so either she rubbed the right elbows or she snooped to get her information. It was unexpected for a woman of her stature to be so invested in anyone as low on the food chain as a fresh batch of med students, so one had to wonder why she would be interested in the first place. Was she genuinely interested in the fresh meat coming into Huerta’s halls, or was she a woman easily threatened by new and innovative minds?

It would have to be a question for another time. Molly was not ready to risk starting off on the wrong foot with Dr. Quostis, so she clasped her hands behind her back and stood a little straighter before answering, “I visited the Citadel when I was a kid as part of a performance arts group. A few of us got hurt in a skycar crash and he was the one who operated on me. I think I might have tortured him with questions post-op. I was...it was fascinating to me, seeing him work. He was one of the most impressive people I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

Dr. Quostis chuckled, the brilliance of her gaze flushing Molly’s cheeks, “I wouldn’t call that fascination of yours torture, dear. Farrhe was a teacher at heart, so engaging your curiosity would have done nothing but brighten his day.”  
  
The little girl that still lived somewhere deep in Molly’s heart stirred at that comment, flooding her chest with warmth. Dr. Farrhe was someone she remembered fondly as an inspiration and a catalyst for the changes in her life that propelled her to this point. The idea that he might have enjoyed her company as much as she had his made that little smile of hers grow until it reached her ears, and finally she looked down.   
  
She told herself it was merely due to bashfulness. It certainly wasn’t because she had to mask the moisture pooling over her grey eyes and threatening to spill. Mercifully, Quostis pressed on with whatever was on her mind, drawing Molly’s focus back to the conversation and away from her messy emotions.   
  
“You’re the scholarship student, right? Dr. Helera told me about the research you and your classmate will be bringing to Huerta and I have to say, I’m impressed by your boldness,” before she continued, she cast Helera a sly look and crooked a mandible, “The asari at Huerta will not be pleased to see a _ human _ bringing biotics to the fore of medical research on the Citadel. You think you’re ready to take on that kind of pressure?”   
  
There was only one answer when the question was whether or not Molly was cool under pressure. Without skipping a beat, she neatly arched a brow, bringing a hand up to rest on her cocked hip before answering with a smooth and confident, “Absolutely.”

“That’s the spirit,” came the lilting response, “Now. Your classmate had a chance to bombard me with questions about my rare patient earlier. I’ve got a couple of minutes here before I ride with him back to Huerta, so it’s your turn to ask away.”

She did, in fact, have hundreds of questions clamouring to be asked about the treatments, action plans, and the opportunities _ she _ might have to observe Quostis work with him. Then, from nowhere she could name, without any prompting or preparation, her mouth ran away from her and she found the words falling from her lips before she could stop herself from asking, “Can you tell me a little bit about _ conigo _ ?”   
  
The unflappable Vivolo Quostis seemed as though she had been caught off guard, though it paled in comparison to Molly’s own shock. The turian doctor blinked, tapped a blunted talon to her chin, and shrugged.   
  
“Sure, Thorne, though I won’t be using it to treat this guy...” she answered, not unkindly despite her evident confusion. Even Helera’s mouth fell open in surprise. It was highly unlike Molly to miss an opportunity like _ this _ .   
  
Colour flooded Molly’s cheeks, but she still managed to hold herself with confidence. Sure, she had allowed that giant, stupid snowball to insert himself into her professional life so she could make a prize idiot of herself in front of the _ one _ person on the Citadel she would want to impress the most. Did that mean she was going to flounder though?

No. Molly was a confident person, one who pushed towards her goals without hesitation. It was important that a woman who could potentially become her mentor see that side of her, so she would leave the bumbling to Vinth.  
  
“I just wanted to know if there are any ways to reverse it? To heal someone properly? We didn’t discuss it much in school because of how outdated the practice is, but it’s still commonly used for field traumas.”

“It is,” Quostis nodded, throat humming with a sympathetic tone, “But the only approach we have for _ conigo _ reversal is far more barbaric and painful than those old wounds could ever be. You know someone?”   
  
She nodded, never letting her eyes leave Quostis’. Molly refused to look small, at least figuratively speaking. She was the shortest person in the room, but that didn’t mean she’d let the famous surgeon believe she was a mousey thing.   
  
“I do,” she nodded, “His carapace looks like a jigsaw puzzle.”   
  
Quostis and the silent Tirreste, still sitting with her datapads, both winced at that.   
  
Speaking with long hands that looked like whorls of smoke, the doctor hummed once more and said, “I’m not sure there’s a treatment to improve his situation. There’s a common misconception that _ conigo _ functions like an alloy because of the way it’s prepared, but it’s really a medigel cocktail that _ contains _ a thulium alloy. You can’t just melt it away with a bit of heat, you would have to carve it out. It’s a long, painful procedure with high risk for complications. It just doesn’t make sense to put someone through that because it _ might _ eventually relieve their pain. There’s a lot of research to show that routine massage helps with the aches, though I’m sure you covered that much in school.”   
  
When Helera nodded, a twist of guilt tightened Molly’s stomach momentarily. The mention of massage treatment must have been a minor detail, one that she knew would never appear on an exam, because she couldn’t recall ever writing that into her notes. Still, it was something. Vinth struck her as the sort of man who would just shoulder his pain rather than treat it, so perhaps she could-

“I’m impressed, Thorne.”  
  
Molly practically gawked up at Dr. Quostis, but she managed to snap her mouth shut when she gazed up at the surgeon with wide eyes and red cheeks.   
  
“It was, oh, what’s that human word?” a musical growl rolled out from the turian’s last word as her fingers pointed at nothing, moving through the air as though she was measuring out her thoughts, “Ballsy! It was ballsy of you to pass up a chance to get in on something as good as fused plates to try and help out a friend. Am I using that right?”

A shrill alert sounded from Quostis’ omni and she shrugged an apology before an awestruck Molly could answer her, “Duty calls. Looks like my guy is ready to be moved, and I want to make sure his transport is painless. I’ll see you both again when you’re licensed practitioners of xenomedicine.  
  
“Helera,” The surgeon and the professor nodded at each other before Quostis sauntered back out of the small room, leaving the students buzzing with excitement. A woman like that was the dream: successful, charming, and influential enough to get her talons in whatever surgeries she damn well pleased to.   
  
“Okay, kids,” Dr. Helera clapped her hands together, “Shall we head to the clinic?”

* * *

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Between assisting in the clinic, running through mock exams, and cramming in as much study as possible, Molly was exhausted by the time her school day was over. She had a small window of time to energize before she had to head back to Bachjret and _ Red Nova _ for another stressful night at the club.

The overworked student was scrambling for coffee at the cart in the courtyard when two familiar faces in the crowd made her chest heave with a sigh. A sympathetic noise punctuated by biosuit-regulated breaths sounded from the volus who manned the cart. Apparently Barhad Set was familiar enough with the approaching duo to be equally as apprehensive as Molly felt.   
  
“Tell me about it,” she groaned, earning herself a low chuckle.  
  
Barhad made himself busy fussing over the fresh levo brew in one of his industrial percolators when Molly’s classmates neared.   
  
“What do you need, Rivix?” she grumbled, wrinkling her button nose in distaste as they approached.  
  
“I wonder,” the salarian put his hand to his chin in a theatrical display of thoughtfulness, “Perhaps to enlighten you? You’re a smart woman, it’s true, but it seems as though you truly believe you impressed the _estimable _Dr. Vivolo Quostis today. She gave you the opportunity to learn and to impress her and you made a sentimental idiot of yourself just because someone you know has been slapped back together with old medicine. To do _that_ after she had told Helera and myself how eager she was to discuss your research with you...such a shame. She said she was impressed, but what better way to placate a foolish girl?”  
  
Well, that explained why Rivix had been in such a foul mood earlier. If Quostis was more interested in Molly’s research than she was in his brownnosing then it was no wonder he had been salty. He wanted to stick close to her to give himself another opportunity to meet the doctor, and now he was desperately trying to take her down a peg with his grasping insults. 

Molly arched a brow and enjoyed his pathetic show which a round shoulder shook in the corner of her eye. Was Barhad trying to hide his laughter, then?   
  
“This is sad even for you, Rivix,” she sighed in response, typing a quick command into her omni so she could pay for her coffee, exchanging a _ look _ with Barhad as she went through the motions, “Now leave me be so I can head to work-”   
  
Rivix held up a hand to stop her from walking off, a peculiar look in his eyes.   
  
“Hold on, I actually _ did _ come here for a reason other than enlightening you. Well, in _ addition _ to enlightening you.”   
  
Something about the sincerity in his tone and the way he refused to let those clever green eyes of his meet her glare told Molly that there might just be some sincerity in his words this time. Curious, she learned her weight back onto one foot and waited for an explanation.   
  
“We’re planning a night out,” he explained, looking towards Tirreste, who nodded in support of his statement, “The whole class is going for drinks after our last exam. We’re going to wear proper clothes and get so drunk we don’t remember our names. Once we start interning we won’t have the chance for a night like that for who knows how long, so-”   
  
“No.”   
  
If she was honest with herself, Molly would admit that she was sorely tempted to join. She hadn’t let loose like that since she lived on Earth, when she was a stupid kid drinking cheap liquor with her friends in the cove. Instead she lied to herself and said she wasn’t interested due solely to the fact that she would have to spend an evening in the company of the biggest self-obsessed asshole on the Citadel and his freakishly obsessed turian bulwark of a woman.   
  
The whole truth was that until she started making doctor money then she would never be able to afford a night of revelry with her classmates. Bars on the Citadel, like everything else, were heinously expensive compared to her small hometown.   
  
Rivix folded his arms and pointed back and forth between Tirreste and Molly, his rich, brown features drawn into a contemplative expression.   
  
“What do you think, Xiphias?” he asked of the turian, who was startled out of whatever thoughts she had, “We taking no for an answer?”   
  
“Uhhh,” came the quick-witted response, “No?”

If she hadn’t been standing just a few inches behind that damned salarian, that bright, silver gaze of Tirreste’s would have been able to catch him rolling his eyes. Really, those two were like idiots straight out of a medical drama.  
  
In typical Molly fashion, a brow shot up so she could level her classmates with a very unimpressed look, her mouth pulled into a tight frown.   
  
“You will take no for an answer if I say so,” she deadpanned, reaching out to accept her coffee to catch just one of the optical lights in Barhad’s suit blinking. Did he...was that an encouraging wink? Did volus even wink? His nod suggested that yes, he had, and yes, they did. At least sometimes.   
  
“I swear, Thorne,” Rivix grumbled, “Sometimes I’m convinced the only reason you joined this program was to scope out the best person to surgically remove that stick from up your ass. The entire evening is going to be paid for. We’re going to dress up, eat, drink, and celebrate because we’ll be done. Done exams, done screwing each other over, done fighting to impress everyone worth impressing. Until our internship starts, that is.”   
  
Tirreste nodded her large head in agreement and picked up where the twitchy, arrogant bastard she was so fond of had left off.   
  
“You’ve made every effort to ostracize yourself from everyone because you’re competitive as hell and you’re gunning to be top of the class and start your career on the right foot,” the turian bulwark continued, her tone a little gentler than her companion’s, “We get it because we’re all like it to some extent, but you’re the only one of us who hasn’t joined a study group outside of school hours or shared a drink from time to time. At least let your guard down enough to come out _ once _ .”   
  
All Molly could manage was to stare and blink, unable to process what had just happened. Xiphias Tirreste had never spoken so much or so eloquently as she just had during any of their previous encounters. The small human looked to Barhad for help to find him wringing his hands together and rushing back to work, clearly just as stunned as she was.   
  
The two people she thought to be the biggest assholes in her graduating class were telling her off for being a cold hard bitch. What the hell did _ that _ mean?   
  
“Uh,” she scratched her head, pulling threads of auburn hair free from her ponytail, “I, uh. Sure. I mean, if it’s paid for and...yeah. Sure, okay.”   
  
“Excellent! I want everyone in our class to witness the first step of my ascension to surgical _ godhood _ .”   
  
She wanted to roll her eyes, but in lieu of what had just happened she just smirked at the arrogant prick and quirked a teasing brow before lobbing back with, “I’ll make sure to bring a candle I can light at your feet, Kormae.”   
  
“Shit, Thorne, don’t take it _ too _ far.”   
  
Of course he had to have the last word.   
  
Rolling her eyes, the dancer sashayed away with a wave, sipping her coffee as she headed off campus towards the trams.

Foot traffic during this time was always a nightmare. There were huge crowds of humans and aliens far taller than she was, which made shouldering her way through to public transit hubs a bit of a challenge. Normally it boiled Molly’s blood whenever she had to push her way through the throng, but on this particular day she moved with the flow without a single complaint.

She had every reason to be crooked as sin considering how everything in her life had been going lately: between shit hitting the fan at _ Nova _ , making an idiot of herself in front of Vivolo Quostis (she was loathe to admit it, but Rivix might well be right about the surgeon just saying she was impressed to spare Molly’s feelings), and being called out for being an ass by _ Rivix and Tirreste _ of all people, she should be screaming bloody murder at everyone who dared shove her to the side.   
  
Instead she found herself doing her best to weave through the bodies, eager to get back to Bachjret. There was a seed of dread in her belly at the thought of clocking in at _ Nova _ , sure, but every time she thought about work she pictured a familiar face. A pale, bare face with piercing blue eyes and a habit of bumbling when he was nervous.   
  
Except she wouldn’t admit that she was looking forward to seeing Vinth again. Molly wouldn’t, she _ couldn’t _acknowledge that he was the best part of her day so far. She was in the middle of chasing a dream and her dream was not to fawn over some overgrown turian snowball, it was to learn how to cut people open and stitch them back together again.

Hell, she had just met Dr. _ Vivolo Quostis _! Meeting the most venerable surgeon on the Citadel was the best part of her day, no matter how wildly her heart fluttered whenever she so much as thought of that bumbling goof. She would keep telling herself that despite how loudly her ridiculous feelings screamed otherwise.

As if to jostle her out of that particular train of thought, a massive hand shoved her aside and crushed her against a storefront, sloshing her coffee enough for it to spill out and coat her hand. It turned her skin an angry shade of pink where it touched.  
  
“Ow! _ Hey! _ Hey, watch where you’re going!” she snarled, glaring up with stormy grey eyes to see a huge, armoured krogan scowling at her. Her mouth dropped open and she clutched her chest with her free hand, nervous laughter spilling from her lips.   
  
“Ahh, haha...hah...have a good day!”   
  
Unamused, the krogan grunted and turned away, deeming her unworthy of his time or patience. The relief that washed over her was so intense the dancer had to brace herself against the storefront for a moment before pushing herself back on her feet.   
  
That was when she realized just what sort of shop she had fallen against and she was so close to screaming her frustration that her cheeks flushed.   
  
_ Of all the fucking places, _ she cursed, smoothing out her clothes with quick, choppy motions, _ Of all the stores I could’ve been crushed into by some hamhanded krogan _ .   
  
_ Wellness _ scrolled across the glass front in different languages, and between the lines of holo text she caught glimpses of the product line. Pharmacies and wellness shops that catered to all species on the Citadel were common around Siel’iphrae campus, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to find herself in this position. The _ real _ joke was the fact that the big, front-and-centre display was an at-home massage kit for turians.   
  
“There is a god and that god is testing me,” the woman grumbled under her breath, drawing worried glances from the people who passed by her.   
  
She told herself that the only way she was going to stop this fated torment was to satisfy whatever divine trickster kept shoving reminders of Vinth in her face. After a quick glance to check the time on her omni, Molly stormed inside the shop and glared at the kit with its finely crafted tools and its glossy varnished box as though it were responsible for her being so off her game today.   
  
When she saw the price point her scowl twisted her face into such a furious expression that one of the uniformed asari employees nervously approached to ask if everything was okay.   
  
“I’ll take one,” she muttered, trying to ignore the way it made her stomach flip to spend that many credits on one purchase. The pain in her gut eased a little when she thought of how much good the little hammers would do for Vinth, though, and he _ had _ just spent a ridiculous amount of money on furniture for her apartment. This was just repaying a debt, that was all. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover the expense of a bedframe and a mattress, but it was a start.   
  
Molly left the store feeling reinvigorated despite the involuntary whimper that followed in the wake of spending enough credits to feed her for a week. She shouldered the shopping bag and stuck little buds into her ears, letting herself float through the rest of her trip back to Bachjret with lecture recordings to drown out the din within the trams.

It was about an hour’s ride with three transfers to get back to her district in Bachjret. The crowd grew thinner with every stop, which would have been a relief but for the fact that the people grew seedier. Molly was beginning to regret purchasing the kit she held tight against her side, partially because of the expense and partially because of the way the shifty strangers sharing the tram car with her stared at the branding on the bag.  
  
_ If I get stabbed for these stupid tiny hammers I swear I’m going to give that snowball the boot and go celibate. _

She still looked for him when she stepped off the tram, though. Still scanned the crowd instead of keeping her head down while she made her way to _ Nova _ . She wanted to get the bag out of her hands, to shove it at him and go about her day. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of her wanted to see the stupid look on his face when he realized what it was and what it meant. She didn’t buy it for him to use on himself, after all.   
  
He wasn’t waiting for her outside the club, though, so she swallowed and denied her disappointment before veering off towards the back entrance instead, slipping quietly into the dressing room while she nursed her wounded pride. It was easy to avoid chatting with the other girls tonight, at least. Something had them all whispering frantically, something that set Molly’s heart racing.   
  
Wordlessly she popped out her ear buds and opened her locker, storing her shopping bag and pulling out her uniform.   
  
“The LT was down here earlier but he wasn’t mad. Not like he was with Leore,” one of the newer human girls had said that, the one with the short, black bob whose name was lost on Molly, “He looked like the cat who got the cream.”   
  
“Goddess, Una, _ explain _ ,” that one was Telaphore, judging by the slight tenor in the voice. To confirm, Molly turned around and saw she was right. Tela, Una, and the very pretty blonde named Daisy were all huddled together. The looks on their faces were alarming, to say the least. 

Something big was happening.  
  
“He looked _ smug _ ,” Una snapped, causing Tela to roll her eyes, “Like he got his hands on something really good. His guys have been lurking around all night, too. I think they found him. I think they found the guy who’s been ratting them out.”   
  
_ Finally _ , Molly sighed her relief, _ Finally this will all be over. _

Of course a part of her had hoped to see Briggs taken down, but it was enough that she no longer had to worry about another girl getting killed. _ Nova _ was still a shithole, she still didn’t feel safe, but if she kept her head down tonight then the worst of it would be over.   
  
“Any idea who it is?”   
  
She kept her ears open as she slipped out of her clothes with her body angled in such a way that the others wouldn’t be able to see the bruised, angry bite mark on her shoulder.

Before Una could respond to the question the door to the dressing room slammed open and Dineen stormed straight towards Molly, her face drawn into a miserable frown. For a fleeting moment, the sounds that swept into the dressing room while the door had been open tickled her ears with familiarity. It was so like the light touch of Vinth’s subvocals that it made her chest feel tight. Shit, was she really imagining _ hearing _ him now?   
  
“Get dressed,” the asari growled under her breath so the others couldn’t hear, grabbing Molly’s shoulder to pull her close and speak into her ear, “Now. We have to go.”   
  
The way Dineen looked at Molly’s bruised shoulder, the fury and the heartache that flashed through her expression, it sent ice through the dancer’s veins. The others had turned to look at the two of them, watching as D pulled Molly’s tunic over her head and shoved her leggings into her hands.   
  
She knew without asking what was happening; Molly Thorne might have spent the day acting a smitten fool but she was no idiot. She could do the math, she just had to hear it. She had to hear it spoken aloud or her awful, awful heart would keep believing the bare-faced liar she had let into her bed.   
  
“Dineen, what-”   
  
“Get dressed first, then I’ll explain.”   
  
The asari would brook no arguments, so Molly blinked back the sting of tears she felt building up and hastily pulled on the rest of her clothes. She slung her bag over her shoulders, ignoring the shopping bag mocking her from within her open locker and the worried chattering of the other girls when Dineen grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the locker room and back into the alley outside of the club.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Dineen manage to find a quiet moment to prepare for what's to come and make a very bold decision.

With Dineen leading the way their escape had been quick and quiet. It came as a bit of a shock that nobody was waiting for them in the alley, since everyone at  _ Nova _ knew by now that Vinth was one of the few people Molly was actually friendly with. Whatever reason kept Briggs’ thugs away from the back entrance, the two were silently grateful for it. It was unlikely they would get lucky like that again, so they counted their blessings and kept their heads down as they made their escape.

Or at least Molly did, lost as she was in a riotous storm of realizations. How had she not suspected Vinth to be the leak from the very beginning?  _ Red Nova _ was run by a violent criminal known for his hatred of turians: it wasn’t a welcoming place for anyone who wasn’t human or asari, but turians were especially at risk of incurring the wrath of the “LT” and his thugs.   
  
That he kept coming for her should have been an immediate red flag. Why the hell should he come to  _ Nova _ for  _ her _ , a tired and spiteful alien who treated him like dirt time and again? It should have been obvious, she was a terribly convenient cover for a turian regular and she had been too dense to realize it. His fixation, his desperation to get close to her wasn’t because he wanted her. It was because he needed a reason to be there and she played right into his little act.   
  
An anguished sound tore from her throat, echoing in the empty alley Dineen was pulling her through. The asari turned back and pressed a finger to her lips, signalling for her to keep quiet with a face full of pity. At least  _ she _ was keeping her chin up and her eyes forward. Molly’s face crumpled with an unspoken apology and she clenched her jaw tight to keep herself from making any more noise. D might be familiar with the labyrinth of back alleys in the seedier parts of Bachjret, but they were still at risk. Briggs paid off a lot of the locals to be his eyes and ears, so it wasn’t wise to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves.   
  
So Molly did what she was best at and drummed up iron walls around her heart, a cool stillness settling over her. She followed behind D without making another noise, her grey eyes flat and foggy despite the snakepit of miserable thoughts writhing behind them.

_ It wasn’t real. None of it was real. _

It explained why he constantly dodged revealing any information about his past and the way he seemed to look straight through her sometimes. She had often felt as though he was reading every detail of her soul, and  _ oh  _ how right she had been. It made her sick to her stomach to think of it, but her face remained blank even as her skin blanched and a thin sheen of sweat broke over her forehead.

Avinthus must have been picking through every tell and every detail of who she was, puzzling out the best way to use her to achieve his goals. Molly, fool that she was, had let it all happen despite the unease she had initially felt about him. She ignored her better judgment because she kept herself so bloody isolated that she threw herself at the first person who bothered putting their foot in the door to  _ try  _ to get close to her.

He played his part well, that Avinthus Flos. A tall and intense stranger wrapped up in a mystery who made a smitten fool of himself just for her. His blundering charms had disarmed her so efficiently she had to wonder just how pathetic she looked to him. 

What went through his mind while he watched her get played so easily? What must he think of the sad little girl so desperate for companionship that she threw herself at a total stranger who showed her the slightest gestures of kindness? She’d barely even tried to figure out what sort of man she was dealing with before she opened up for him.

Like a flower opening to the sun, his attention had her spreading out her legs, her heart, and the intimate details of her life that she normally held tight to her chest. Hell, she’d even introduced him to her  _ parents _ .

The part that hurt the most, though, the part that had her stomach twisted into slithering knots was the fact that he had held her while she cried over Leore. He sat there, holding her, _knowing _he was the reason that poor girl had been beaten within an inch of her life. He was a sick son of a bitch, Flos.  
  
A small, clear voice rang through the din of Molly’s wounded pride and reminded her to keep her eyes up. Now was not the time to indulge in self-pity, not when there was so much on the line. She blinked away the fog and looked up at Dineen, whose mouth was set in a grim line as she inched towards a turn in the back alleys so she could peer around a corner. The muscular asari had always been protective of the dancers in _Nova_, but the fact that she had risked herself to lead Molly away before Briggs could come looking for her…  
  
A rush of emotion lurched in the little dancer’s chest and she clutched a fist against it, the hand still clasping D’s squeezing her blue fingers tightly. This was the kind of person she should have welcomed into her life, _this_ was the kind of friend worthy of knowing her. How long had they known each other now? How many years had they danced together and laughed together without digging deeper?

Molly had always told herself it was because they risked drawing Briggs’ attention that she didn’t allow herself to get close to the other  _ Nova _ girls. Perhaps that was just another one of the many lies she told herself to stay in the safety of her self-inflicted isolation. She wasn’t sure what she had done to earn such loyalty from the asari, but as they crept through the shadows towards whatever destination Dineen had in mind, Molly swore a silent oath to be the sort of woman worthy of this powerful camaraderie.   
  
Once she was sure the coast was clear, D tugged Molly around the corner, sparing a glance backwards to flash a small crook of her lips towards the human, who offered a weak smile in return.

It wasn’t long before she finally stopped them in front of a run down apartment building where most of the lights were dead or dying. Frail, flickering neon lights dotted the exterior, which was stained with rust and the sort of film that builds up from years of filth and neglect.    
  
D punched a code into a keypad while Molly touched the tips of her fingers to the bruise lingering on her ribs where Briggs had beat her. Vinth was the reason behind that, too, she realized as an ache throbbed through bone and muscle from her touch.  _ He  _ was the one who had agitated Briggs, stirring the bastard into a frenzy. Then he had the gall to offer to protect her from the bastard after it happened, letting her think he was some heroic stranger? Fuck him.   
  
Molly breathed heavily through her button nose and sighed as Dineen dragged her into the shabby apartment building. It was much nicer inside: well lit, unexpectedly clean, and lovingly patched up to combat what must have been years of wear and tear. It might be a cheap spot, but it was one with caring landlords and tenants at the very least.   
  
Curious grey eyes took in their surroundings and Molly couldn’t help but wonder if they were heading to D’s apartment or someone else’s. The asari had relaxed a little once they crossed the threshold of the building, enough to release the tension in her hold and allow their hands to hang gently between them as they walked. Her shoulders eventually drooped, too, and when the sense of urgency left her it was easier for the shorter woman to keep pace and walk side by side.   
  
Taking advantage of the shift in energy, Molly wiggled her hand free of Dineen’s grasp to instead lace their fingers together. D looked down at her once more, deep blue eyes widening with shock this time as she tried to process what was happening. It was, after all, very unlike the auburn-haired dancer to show any sort of affection whatsoever. There was a brief moment when Molly felt her nerves squeeze the air from her chest, fearing that she had made the wrong move and made her rescuer uncomfortable.   
  
The warm smile that broke across Dineen’s normally stoic features, so like the sun breaking through storm clouds back on Earth, was all the answer she needed. An unspoken exchange passed between the two women and they finished their quick journey feeling a little bolder, a little less afraid.   
  
D led her up three flights of worn stairs and down a corridor lined with colourful doors. It was a small touch, but the varied shades of paint for each apartment door brought cheer and a sense of community that Molly had never felt in her own building. They stopped in front of a large, lilac-coloured door painted with child-like renderings of some Thessian creature Molly couldn’t recall the name for.

Something coiled in the dancer’s gut as she realized whose apartment they were about to enter. Her brows knotted together and she drew a breath, the beginnings of a question building on her tongue just to be cut off by Dineen raising a large, blue hand to silence her. The asari punched another code into the door and tugged Molly in behind her. Once they were safely inside with the door shut and locked behind them, she heaved a sigh and ran a hand over her speckled blue crest.   
  
“Don’t worry,” the asari finally spoke, exhaustion dragging out her words, “Valla’s kid’s in the hospital right now. She’s not gonna get hurt or dragged into any of this ‘cause we’re here.”

Well, that answered one of Molly’s questions. As for the rest…   
  
The two women exchanged a glance, a charged silence growing between them as they struggled to find the right words for all they had to say. The weight on Molly’s chest grew heavier with every moment that passed until she finally pulled her hand free of Dineen’s and hugged herself.   
  
Her face crumpled and she peered up at Dineen to watch as pity twisted the asari’s features into a miserable frown that mirrored her own. Whatever she saw in the tiny dancer’s face was breaking Dineen’s heart, it seemed.   
  
Finally, after taking a deep breath to collect herself, the asari spoke.

“It was him Moll,” she whispered, her low voice shaking with too many emotions to place, “It was that turian of yours. I heard it all.”

Funny, her choice of words.  _ Molly’s  _ turian was a fiction, a masterfully crafted lie designed to slip through the walls of her defences. That lie had worked, too, which was why the two of them were hiding out here in the first place. Grey eyes blinked hard in order to chase away whatever tears began to form. There was no time for tears or self-pity, not with the mess they were in.

Something in her face must have betrayed her thoughts, as D tried to reach for her again in an attempt to soothe her. Petulant child that she was, especially in the eyes of a centuries-old woman, Molly shrugged away and cast a sullen look at the floor, which was cluttered with toys. There was a film of dust over them, a telling sign of just how long Valla’s daughter had been living in a hospital bed.   
  
Guilt overwhelmed the dancer and she turned back to Dineen, whose watery blue gaze had also swept the apartment and brought her to similar conclusions, it seemed.   
  
“Valla’s in the thick of it right now,” D frowned and picked a neat path through the neglected toys so she could sit on a worn old sofa. A large, blue hand patted a cushion and beckoned Molly to join her.   
  
It seemed wrong, to sit and be comfortable when so many of the people they cared for were embroiled in shit. Leore was off the grid with Briggs’ men, Valla was with the bastard himself, and Vinth… Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sit with Dineen after all. A small comfort to steady them when they were trapped in a maze of thorns that appeared for all the world to have no exit.   
  
How were they supposed to escape Briggs’ reach and survive this? The answer seemed impossible and every time she tried to find it within herself she found herself thinking that the cold, dirty streets of Lower Bachjret would be their grave.   
  
Sighing, Molly traced the other dancer’s steps and let herself sink into the seat beside her, surprised when she found their hands laced together once more. She blinked up at her coworker, no, her  _ friend _ , and tightened her grip in response. It was remarkable how such a small kindness made the impossible seem a little more attainable. At least she wasn’t in this alone.   
  
Chewing on her lower lip, her tongue flicking over the scar that Briggs had left her, Molly regarded her powerful companion for a moment. She couldn’t help wondering just how powerful D’s biotics were and if it would be enough to get them free of this mess to seek help. Speaking of...   
  
“Shouldn’t we be running?” she asked, tilting her head.   
  
A tight smile flickered briefly across D’s tired expression and she pulled Molly’s hands into her lap. How had she never noticed the woman’s sisterly energy before now?   
  
“Yeah but we’ve got some time to make a plan so let me give you the rundown.”   
  
When Molly stayed silent, D pressed on, tapping against her ear to draw Molly’s eyes to a subtle blue bud.    
  
“Ever since the thing with Leore, Valla’s been connecting calls with me at the start of her shifts. ‘Cause I made her. She’s been spending more time with Briggs than at home, after all, but I can’t blame her. Nobody’s got the quads to stand up to ‘em with the mood he’s been in. So I’ve been listening in just in case, and it’s a good thing too.   
  
“Briggs called her in today to ask questions about you and Flos. She answered honestly, that you’d been getting close and spending time together at the club and outside of it. Moll, he latched onto that. You’re kinda known for keeping yourself apart from the rest of us more than anyone and he figured if you were entertaining Flos being around at all it meant something big. He’s convinced you had a hand in everything that turian was doing.”   
  
“And what was he doing?”   
  
Molly’s voice rang low and harsh, jarring Dineen out of her train of thought. The asari drew her hairless brows together and regarded the small human thoughtfully.    
  
When she continued, her voice softened a touch, empathy lacing her tone, “It was a revenge thing I think. Briggs caught wind of news reports coming from the Hierarchy on a fluke. Flos is a big name on Palaven, some bigwig named Erigo handles cash flow for the Hierarchy or some shit like that. Hierarchy’s over my head. Anyways, he did some sort of public speech and reporters heckled ‘em for news about his dead son and Briggs managed to see it. Kid was gunned down during his service, he was security detail for a weapons transport and he was your turian’s brother.”

“Weapons transport…”   
  
“All starting to come together, huh?”

Most of the dirty business Briggs did was tied to the illegal smuggling and selling of weapons to the Citadel’s worst criminals, so yeah. It was coming together. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.   
  
“So Vinth- Avinthus- followed the trail back to Briggs, I take it?”   
  
D nodded, throwing her hands up in confusion.   
  
“I don’t get it. The hell was he doing? Briggs did some digging and the guy’s military, but he’s the type that follows orders from what the LT made out. He doesn’t call shots. Still, he should’ve known the Hierarchy would look into it. Seems so stupid, scrubbing off his face paint wouldn’t be enough to cover his ass if he was still using his own damn name. It’s  _ stupid _ , Moll. Uh... No offense.”   
  
Molly waved her friend off and scowled, “No, you’re right. He’s stupid, and he’s a fucking prick. Grieving or not...fuck, D. He’s a son of a bitch.”   
  
Grieving his brother was no excuse for being rash or callous with the lives of everyone vulnerable to Briggs’ wrath at  _ Nova _ . It was a horrible thing, his brother’s death, and a silly part of her still wanted to find and comfort the manipulative asshole. That compulsion was quickly snuffed out when she reminded herself that he was willing to risk living, breathing people for his petty revenge. Avinthus Flos had done an ugly and unforgivable thing, as far as she was concerned. It didn’t matter that her heart ached for him, her heart was a treacherous fool.   
  
“Yeah...fuck. Goddess’ tits, Moll you got yourself wrapped up in some crap.”   
  
Despite the heavy pit in her stomach, Dineen’s words roused a small flame in Molly’s belly, energizing her and sparking her into action. She nodded her agreement, the determined set to her jaw piquing the asari’s curiosity as she watched the small dancer pitch forwards in her seat.   
  
“Yeah, I did,” she spat out the words, her chest tight with self-pity, “Because I was a naive idiot. But Dineen, now  _ you’re _ wrapped up in the same crap and by choice. What the hell? You realize you put a target on your head dragging me out of there, right?”   
  
To her surprise, the asari laughed her off and shrugged her square shoulders, as though Molly had missed a very important detail in her impassioned accusation.   
  
“I’m no idiot,” she chuckled, “I know exactly what I did and I’d do it again if I had to. Briggs is a Goddess-damned assknuckle and I’m not gonna let ‘em get any of us.”   
  
“Except he’s got Valla.”   
  
D’s smile vanished and a sour quiet built between the two, their hands growing slack and fingers twitching from the strain of words unsaid. Molly had struck a nerve and she knew it, she could see it in the way Dineen’s gears were turning as she stared off into nothing. Briggs kept at least two armed thugs on him at all times, and his office housed more weapons than either one of them could imagine. What could they possibly do for Valla? It wasn’t like they could storm the place. Although...   
  
“Why not just let him catch us?”   
  
Dineen’s masculine features drew into a scowl and she pulled her hands back, disentangling herself from her human companion as she growled, “Not funny, Moll.”   
  
“Not a joke,” Molly pressed on, a spark of inspiration reviving the relentless determination of her spirit, “Briggs’ fatal flaw is that bloated ego of his, it’d be easy to convince him he’d caught us, and if we play dead, let him think you’re knocked out and no longer a threat…”   
  
“Are you fucking serious, Moll?”   
  
“It wouldn’t be that hard, would it? He’s not a clever man, Briggs, and we’d have an edge…”   
  
“You think we can just waltz in and kill the bastard?”   
  
Molly shrugged, “I’m not a killer. It’s more like...premeditated self-defence?”   
  
“ _ Molly. _ ”   
  
“Yeah, I get it, it’s stupid and crazy,” Molly hopped from her seat and began pacing between the dusty toys on the floor, “But tell me what other options we have? Go into hiding, disappear? Fuck that. Fuck Briggs, fuck all of this. He’ll chase us all over the Citadel and skin us the first chance he gets just for trying to get away. He’ll probably kill Valla for ever showing us kindness and he’ll keep torturing everyone who works at  _ Nova _ . If I’m going to die anyways I’ll die fighting. For all of us.”   
  
She’d never admit it to Dineen, but as she said that she imagined Vinth’s eyes glaring out at her from the shadows of her thoughts. She hated herself for sparing him a thought when he was the reason they were both in this position, but it wasn’t that easy to switch off her wretched feelings. Plus, Briggs’ hatred of turians was notorious, and his brutality even more so. Nobody deserved to be at the mercy of that kind of violent hatred.   
  
“Fuck.”   
  
Molly whirled on the spot, turning to face her friend. D was bent over at the waist, her head between her knees and her hands on her speckled blue crest.   
  
“Is that a ‘fuck, you’re crazy, let’s get out of here?’ Or is it a, ‘Fuck, you’re right, let’s do this?’”   
  
“Fuck you, Thorne,” Dineen sighed and looked up, her face a mask of grim resolve even as her hands were trembling, “Let’s do this.”


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Dineen make a bold decision: they'll fight Briggs and win or they'll die trying. 
> 
> Avinthus struggles to keep his head above water.
> 
> Briggs suffers a terrible headache over the entire ordeal...
> 
> Valla is done with her boss's shit.

There was a certain giddiness that came with accepting your inevitable death, Molly had learned. She felt untouchable as her heart thundered in anticipation of the hell to come, her fingertips numb from the realization that she could very well be in her final hours.  
  
She and Dineen had hastily patched together a plan that hinged entirely on luck. It was true that Briggs’ sizeable ego would be the best way to bring him down, as hubris was wont to do, but it was still a high stakes gamble. The chances of them surviving were too slim to dwell on, so they walked shoulder to shoulder with their eyes set forward. There was no space for hesitation, not unless they wanted to end up in a Citadel crematorium.

So Molly held her head high and rode the adrenaline, frail confidence wriggling out from her uncertainties like a weed pushing through cracks in concrete. Perhaps, with time and coordination, they could have rallied the women of _ Red Nova _ into a proper force to storm Briggs’ office and rip him to shreds. Perhaps they could have thrown themselves into the thick of it emboldened by a sisterhood of capable women who were tired of being pushed around and fearing for their lives.

Without the luxury of time they found themselves alone and creeping through the back alleys of Bachjret with their stomachs in their throats, exchanging little more than glances as they made out like they were trying to steal away from Briggs’ reach.

The two women had briefly entertained the notion of seeking out C-Sec for assistance, but clean cops were a scarcity in this corner of Bachjret. If they ran away from Briggs blind they would be dooming themselves, so running towards him with half a plan and a hell of a lot of rage seemed like their best option.

All they had to do was get cornered and put up enough of a fight for Dineen to make a big show of being rendered unconscious. Her biotics normally wouldn’t be enough to bring down Briggs and his boys, but with the element of surprise and precise, deadly blows, it was possible the two women could take out the ex-marines before they knew what hit them.  
  
Molly was shivering in her light layers, though it wasn’t just from the cold. She traced her fingers over the band of her leggings to feel the comforting presence of a knife she had liberated from Valla’s kitchen. It was wrapped in a cloth to keep her safe from any major accidents but it still scraped against her skin when she moved. The important thing was that the loose fit of her top kept it concealed and her surgical training meant she only needed one strike to bring someone down with it.

Between the two of them they had a real chance. It was a small one, but it was a real chance nonetheless. They just had to convince Briggs he had won, then kill him and his thugs before they ever caught wise.  
  
It wasn’t that far-fetched, was it?  
  
“Goddess’ tits.”  
  
Molly winced, the timing of Dineen’s curse flooding her with a wicked sense of dread. She felt the asari draw to a quick halt and shoot an arm out in front of her; they had rounded the corner to find four very familiar square faces.  
  
Briggs’ men were all cookie-cutter Alliance jarheads with wide jaws, buzzed hair and vicious, hungry eyes. One of them swaggered forward, a gold tooth glinting in his sneer as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over his pistol like he was trying to pleasure it. She had heard the others call this one a bulldog in the past, a name that suited his hunched shoulders and lumbering gait. He even had spit glistening in the corners of his mouth like he was slavering over scraps of meat.

Something in his demeanour doused the flicker of courage Molly had dredged up. She felt a violent shiver race down her spine until Dineen leaned into her heavily enough to remind her that they were still in this together. Stealing a sideways glance, she managed to relax a little as she took in her companion’s determined scowl and the proud way she held herself. Dineen’s handsome features cut a heroic image in the flickering fluorescent lights of a Bachjret back alley.  
  
“Hullo ladies,” the bulldog marine drawled and drew closer, predatory eyes glued on them while his thumb continued circling endlessly over his pistol, “The LT would like t’have a little chat with you, so let’s play nice, arright? I don’t wanna have t’use this gun.”  
  
The two women clasped their hands together. Whatever hell might come their way, they would face it together.

* * *

Molly Thorne had inspired in Avinthus a hunger to learn all he could about humanity. Their music, history, and myths in particular had engrossed him during the quiet hours of his cycle when sleep eluded him. He had been drawn, in particular, to stories of the phoenix, with its wings of fire and its eternal life. There was something compelling about a creature who could burn away until it was little more than dust and cinders just to rise from the ashes stronger than before.  
  
When Briggs’ knife began to carve away at his resolve, he wondered if he could be reborn from the hell he had found himself in. Avinthus had run to the Citadel with his heart mired in grief so he could play at being a vehicle of justice. He had convinced himself that the bonds of brotherhood were all he needed to succeed at a job he had no head for when really he was just a wounded fool playing detective. His thick-headedness then dragged Lana, Molly, and the few people at _ Red Nova _ worth protecting into the shit storm with him.  
  
There was nothing he could do for his brother’s memory, nor was there a way to make up for the grief he had caused Molly, Leore, or the others. The guilt that sat in his gut like a rock was worse than anything the former Alliance lieutenant could do to him. Even if he was capable of clawing his way out of the ashes for a second chance, he wasn’t worthy of one.  
  
Nor would Briggs let him have one, judging by the twisted grin he wore.  
  
Avinthus began to withdraw into himself, the lines of his body slack with defeat. The only reason he remained upright was because the tight beams of energy that coiled around his chest, ankles, and wrists to keep him restrained were bracing him back against his cold metal seat.

He kept his eyes closed, refusing to take in the view of the round stage from Briggs’ office or the tortured expression that Valla wore as she shrunk into the corner of the room nearest the exit.  
  
The only fight left in him was a lingering need to cling to the only shred of good he could manage in all this misery: to keep Lana and Molly out of it. Briggs wanted to know how he had been gathering his intel and who had been involved, demanding confirmation for his belief that Molly Thorne had been working against him.  
  
Avinthus refused to give him anything. He just slumped down in his binds, letting his mind fade into quiet darkness while Briggs beat him with fists and boots. Not even the hot knives that seared into his hide pulled anything more than a fluttering of mandibles from the battered soldier. The pain was hell, but it was nothing compared to the grief that had scoured his heart raw.

Briggs was prowling around him, twirling a knife in his meaty hands until a ping on his omnitool distracted him from his showboating. He tapped a thick finger to his ear, listening intently until he curled his chapped lips into a smirk.  
  
“Good news, bird,” something in the human’s voice made Vinth look up, his foggy eyes searching the odious bastard for some hint of what had him so gleeful, “We got that bitch of yours. You’ll get to watch me gut that traitorous whore before I put you out of your misery.  
  
Something in Avinthus snapped.

The turian’s blue-smeared throat tensed and quivered with dissonant subvocals, filling the large office with anxious thrumming. Even with his tiny ears and thick skull, Briggs could pick up on the shrill tones raging from Avinthus. His dull features twisted into a scowl and he charged, closing the gap between them in a few heavy strides.  
  
Stubby fingers wrapped around a snowy-white mandible and with a violent jerk yanked Vinth’s head upwards, exposing the whirring lines of his neck. Seconds later the LT crashed his fist into the turian’s throat, silencing the discordant subharmonics. 

“Shut the fuck up with that,” he spat.  
  
Avinthus’ breath wheezed in with every inhale and there was more blue to be seen between the rips in his clothes than white. It didn’t matter. He strained against his bonds with cold, baleful eyes glaring up at Briggs, his muscles bulging as the primal need for violence began coursing through him like a drug.

* * *

Backed into a corner and fearing for her life, Molly had come to a long overdue conclusion: she hated Briggs. She hated him and she hated his thugs. Necessity, familiarity, desperation...they were just the foremost on the list of reasons she never bothered to walk away from _ Red Nova _ . She had always been miserable there, but Valla had was so accommodating that leaving had never really seemed like a good option.  
  
Life on the Citadel was cold and empty- there was no wind, no grass or crashing of waves against a shoreline. There was no sunlight to warm her skin or spirits. The only light glimmering in all that dank misery was the future she was chasing. That was why she chased after it so doggedly: she was struggling for a life she wanted so badly it made her chest ache, a life that promised her joy and fulfillment beyond anything she had ever known. She stayed at _ Nova _ because she knew Valla would help her get there, and after every sacrifice she made along the way, she _ had _ to succeed.

It had to be _ worth it. _

Until she saw it through to the end and knew for sure, she refused to die in obscurity, unfinished and alone. Hopelessness wouldn’t break her, that Cat-6 psychopath and his band of thugs wouldn’t break her.

She met Dineen’s eyes and knew from the blue fire burning in them that _ she _ wouldn’t break, either. The two released each others’ hands and broke apart, the asari stepping in front of the small human to tilt her wide chin up in challenge. The LT’s boys fanned out, their eyes never leaving the tough blue alien dressed head to toe in black with her muscles flexing beneath her snug shirt.

D’s smirk was the only warning Molly had to brace herself.  
  
A blue wall pushed out from the asari, staggering Briggs’ men backwards and giving Molly the opportunity to run for cover. She ducked behind a dumpster while their aggressors got their footing, keeping her eyes glued on the scene in front of her in order to watch Dineen’s hands with the same inhuman focus she used to study at the roundbar in _ Nova _ .  
  
Briggs’ men didn’t pay her any mind. They didn’t see her as a threat, which was precisely what the two women had banked on. Molly watched as D wrapped herself up in shifting blue armour, her shoulders squared defensively as she deflected a round of bullets and sent shockwaves of raw biotic energy snapping across the alley.  
  
The smallest of the thugs fell back on his ass, cursing and squirming as he struggled to get back on his feet. The bulldog, though winded, grabbed his colleague by the scruff of his neck and hauled him back on his feet before charging towards Dineen.  
  
“Back off!” she cried, even as she shrunk back from his approach, “I swear on Athame’s left tit _ I will end you! _ ”  
  
_ Good show, D. _  
  
Another lash of biotic energy rushed from Dineen’s outstretched hand.  
  
_ “I said. Back. Off!” _  
  
Molly saw it - D tapped her thigh three times quick. She was going down.  
  
Bulldog’s pistol was out now, and his boys had followed suit. They all had the barrels of their pistols pointed at the asari and for a moment Molly’s stomach lurched. Four deadly weapons were pointed at her friend, and if not for the low growl of, “The LT wants them alive,” she might have screamed and tried to intervene.  
  
Dineen tilted her jaw up in defiance once more before the bulldog nodded and ordered a torrent of gunfire to rip through her barrier.  
  
It was an excellent show. D’s barrier flared and crackled, blasting outwards and throwing them all back once it broke. Even Molly was shoved back into the corner she had tucked herself in, the wind knocked out of her from the force of the collision.  
  
Reeling with panic, she blinked away the stars dancing in her eyes and caught sight of Dineen’s hands. Concussive rounds had shredded the asari’s barrier and dropped her, peppering her with huge purple welts. It wasn’t until Molly saw one final flare of biotics fizzle out in D’s outstretched palm that she knew her friend was not really unconscious. 

From there on out Molly was on her own insofar as the bulldog and his boys were concerned. She kept a sharp eye on Dineen, looking for signs that the asari was awake and aware. They had both agreed on the subtle gestures Dineen would use to communicate that she was still conscious: fizzling biotics, three quick taps to a thigh, clenching and releasing a fist. Despite that, it was a struggle to keep herself from panicking. She was exhausted, terrified, and still raw from Vinth’s betrayal, a perfect cocktail to send her thoughts spiralling into darkness.  
  
Aside from a few subtle movements, D was like a ragdoll on one of the ex-marine’s shoulders. How could Molly be certain her friend was playing dead? How could she be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that the asari wasn’t actually knocked out?  
  
Doubts crept in during the silence, growing insidious despite the fire still smouldering in her heart. The only thing grounding her and keeping her steady was the knife scraping against her skin and the fact that her wrists hadn’t been bound. She followed the bulldog’s instructions, perfectly complacent, knowing it was the best way to ensure her hands were free to strike when their moment came.  
  
It was the only reason she hadn’t given in to blind terror yet.

* * *

The waiting was the worst part. Avinthus could endure the pain, he could hold steady while his blood soaked his clothes and his vision fogged, but waiting to see Molly walk through the sliding doors was shredding his nerves to bare threads. He kept beseeching the spirits, begging them to help his little human escape this hell.

Briggs was restless too, likely hopeful that Molly would have the answers he was trying to carve out of the silent turian.

When the doors finally _ hissed _ open, Briggs wheeled around and folded his arms over his chest, leaving a battered Avinthus to glare at the son of a bitch shoving Molly into the room using the muzzle of his gun. The way she quietly endured it, her head down and eyes trained on the floor, it made his heart race.  
  
Where was her fire? _ What had they done to her? _  
  
He strained against his bonds, trying in vain to break free so he could step over to Briggs and rip his damned throat out.  
  
As though he could read the turian’s mind, Briggs turned back towards him, dark eyes sparking gleefully as Vinth’s breath wheezed from his fruitless struggling. The noise finally drew Molly’s attention, her grey eyes slowly taking in the sight of the true Avinthus Flos, beaten and bound to a cold steel chair planted in front of the former lieutenant Briggs’ desk.  
  
Her face blanched.  
  
The small human looked more uncertain than he had ever seen her, but there was something else drawing her soft features into tight, hard lines. She hugged herself when her grey gaze swept over the tatters of his shirt and the blood that had soaked through it, but her frown kept hardening. She met his gaze for one brief moment before wrenching her face sideways to stare out the window at the crowd in _ Red Nova _ , unable to look at him any longer, and he _ knew _ why.  
  
Disgust was an emotion the turian could easily read in any species. The markers were, typically, universal. When they weren’t, the clues were easy to learn for anyone living in Citadel space.

Seeing that kind of look on Molly’s face now was like a punch to the gut, even though he knew it was warranted. Still, it wasn’t her disgust that had his talons scraping into the smooth finish of the brushed steel chair, but rather her pain. The raw ache that had her clutching her chest that made Avinthus want to rage.  
  
He tried to call out her name to apologize but the words were hoarse and raw in his throat.

* * *

It was crucial for Molly to look the part of the damsel. She kept her grey eyes fixed on her feet while the cool bite of a pistol shoved between her shoulders guided her into Briggs’ office. She didn’t have to look up to know where Valla was; the older asari, so close now to her matriarch years, let out a strangled cry when she saw two of her girls brought in by the nastiest of the LT’s thugs.  
  
It was a combination of the wheezing and the smell that made her finally look up. The sound was hideous, so like a death rattle that it raised the hairs on the back of her neck. There was, however, a deep note running through it that struck a familiar chord. A part of her rejected that familiarity at first, hoping against hope that she was wrong and the stink of seared flesh was all in her head. She knew better, but she wanted to cling to a few more seconds of ignorance before reality raked through and carved out what little good was left in her.  
  
No amount of hurt or betrayal could quell the surge of outage that roiled in her gut when she saw what Briggs had done to the man. His shirt was in tatters, ripped and burned in places and completely soaked through with blood. She could see the deep bruising on his neck (no doubt the cause of his awful wheezing) and the odd angles where his cracked plates jutted out in unnatural directions.

It was the stink of burnt hide that drove her over the edge, though. The scent was familiar from her days spent observing surgeries in practical rotations, but she had only ever known it to be paired with the chemical bouquet of disinfectants and a sterile field. Smelling it outside of an operating room almost broke her focus.  
  
Then she met Avinthus’ eyes and what she saw in them ruined her.  
  
_ What the hell did he do to you? _

Fighting against the urge to scream, to rush Briggs with her knife and carve that sneer off his ugly mug herself, Molly wrenched her gaze away from the bloody wreck that was Avinthus Flos. She hugged herself tightly, bringing a hand to press against her chest in order to steady herself while that stupid, _ stupid _ snowball sputtered at her from where he was bound.  
  
The sound made her sick.

Panic began to swell once more, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. It wasn’t until she saw Dineen get dumped unceremoniously onto the office couch that she began to feel steady again. The asari had clenched a large hand into a tight fist and loosened it once more.

_ Good _ . _ She’s ready. _  
  
“Well, well,” the sound of the LT’s voice drawing closer made her tense, but Molly kept her eyes glued on the view through the office window, “My favourite little tart came back to play, and so _ obediently _ .”  
  
Molly didn’t flinch when she felt his stale breath snaking along the back of her neck. Her frown deepened, but otherwise she was perfectly still. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her attention.  
  
That was a mistake.  
  
Briggs grabbed her by her ponytail and lifted her off the ground. She kicked her feet wildly to find purchase, white-hot pain surging through her scalp. All she could see between the stars in her eyes was a sneer that curled deep into oily cheeks.  
  
She had to do something, had to relieve the pain and get her head back on straight. Desperately, she grabbed for Briggs’ forearm in hopes of pulling herself up and relieving the pain in her scalp.

The LT didn’t give her the chance. He threw her painfully to the ground, bringing a heavy boot to crunch into her side. If the wet snap in her chest was any indication, the bastard just broke another one of her ribs.  
  
Valla let out a small cry, but it was soon drowned out by the agonized bellowing of the captive turian helplessly watching everything unfold. Molly blinked away the light spots to see Avinthus straining hard against his bonds, blood oozing out in fresh waves to splash against the ground. She tried to call out for him to stop, to tell him he was just killing himself, but each time she drew a breath pain would lance through her chest and choke her words into quiet whimpers.  
  
“Now now,” Briggs crouched down and ran the rough backs of his knuckles along Molly’s jaw, “If you want me to stop, you’ll give me what I want.”  
  
With his eyes locked on Vinth’s, the LT’s thick hand was in her hair again, roughly fisting the auburn waves without taking his eyes off of his turian prisoner, “So tell me who the fuck you’ve teamed up with.”  
  
There was a long, charged silence, and Molly found herself begging Vinth to break in pathetic whimpers. She didn’t look his way, but she hoped-

Her head was yanked upwards again before Briggs shoved it down against the floor, her vision bursting with little white lights that made it impossible to see what was in front of her. She felt her tunic shift, cool air sweeping across her belly and raising gooseflesh in its wake while a loud ringing in her ears drowned out whatever it was Avinthus was saying.  
  
“What’s this then?”  
  
Too late she realized what her shirt lifting meant. She tried to jerk away from the LT but his grip on her hair was unyielding. His hand grasped at the band of her leggings and pulled away her knife.  
  
In a matter of seconds her last threads of hope were severed as the sharp edge of the knife bit into her neck. It was too late to signal Dineen to strike; there was no way the asari could get her out of this now, so if all she could manage was to die fighting, that was what she would do.  
  
“Fuck you,” she growled, “You ugly fucking psychopath-”  
  
A wall of biotic energy boomed from a far corner of the room, pushing Briggs and his men down against the floor. When the LT went down, his knife-hand jerked away, dragging the blade through Molly’s hair to carve a deep gash into her scalp. She yelped from the pain, then again from the weight of a massive, muscled heap of ex-marine toppling over on top of her.  
  
_ Fuck. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _  
  
The dancer’s body started moving on autopilot. She was scrambling to get out from under the LT like a trapped animal trying to claw its way to safety.   
  
_ Was that Dineen? _  
  
Another wave of biotics scattered her and Briggs, breaking them apart and sending them sliding across the tiled floor to crash into the huge tinted window.  
  
_ Fuck _ .  
  
There was a wicked ache in her head and wet heat sliding over her ear from the slash in her scalp. It was hard to see, but not impossible, and the sound of the LT snarling and struggling to get to his feet set a fire under her ass to get moving.  
  
A few hard blinks made it easier for her to take in what was happening when she pushed herself up to her knees and looked around the office: Dineen had gotten up off the couch to stand side-by-side with Valla. The two women looked like paragons of vengeance: their postures were statuesque their faces drawn into perfect renderings of righteous fury. Biotic energy shifted over them like a second skin as they held their hands before them, ready to strike.  
  
Valla’s focus broke briefly as she met Molly’s eyes. She jerked her head towards Vinth, who was struggling hard enough that he could very well end up bleeding to death. Molly nodded and braced herself against the wall to get to her feet, but not before snatching her knife back off the ground just in case.  
  
Lying prick or not, she wouldn’t let the big lug die on her.  
  
Once she was sure that Briggs’ boys were focused on the two deadly asari instead of her, Molly began to take her first shaky steps towards Avinthus. Briggs wasn’t far behind her, but a heavy shockwave chewed through the office furniture towards the ex-marine, leaving a spray of leather scraps and splinters in its wake before sending him back on his ass once more.  
  
Molly pressed on without so much as a backwards glance, unsteady on her feet as she made her way to Vinth. His pale eyes met hers and he stilled within his restraints. It was as though he believed that his will alone could keep her safe, and for a brief moment she felt like she could believe that too. 

Then the crack of gunfire shattered their brittle sense of security, startling Molly back into action. Every step felt like she was pushing through water to get to him until finally she reached her hand out towards his.  
  
Her fingers barely brushed against his blood-slick fingers before she felt the gash in her head burn white-hot with pain. Someone was pulling her back by her hair and she could feel her scalp tearing open, though the pain was nothing compared to the sound of her skin ripping apart. Bile was rising in her throat and her eyes were burning. It was hard to tell if her cheeks were wet with tears or with blood, but the look on Avinthus’ face gave her a good idea.  
  
_ Fuck. _  
  
Molly staggered backwards and felt the cold muzzle of a pistol press between her shoulders once more. She grabbed the sides of her head, fearing that if she didn’t then her scalp would peel clean off. It was unfounded, but there was little she could do to reason with the paralyzing chill in her veins.

Dineen let out a senseless roar that crashed through the din of Molly’s panicked thoughts. Seconds later the air behind the dancer warped and twisted; whoever had hold of her let out a gurgling sound and released her, leaving her free to make a run for it once more.  
  
This time she made it to Avinthus.

It was getting difficult to think straight through her panic and the ringing in her ears, but once her hands were on him, once she could feel that it was _ him _ and he was alive, she felt a little courage returning to her. His throat thrummed with broken subvocals when she put her knife between her teeth and began to trace fingers over him, searching along the strange coils of energy that kept him tied down. They looked like mass effect fields generated across thick wires, which meant that even without a key or a code she might be able to set him free.  
  
“Moll,” Vinth’s voice was little more than a gasping croak, “I’m s- I’m sorry.”  
  
Her fingers were fumbling over the strange energy fields, grateful they weren’t ridiculous death lasers or anything else equally as dramatic. She wouldn’t put it past some Cat-6 lunatic to have that kind of nonsense in his office.  
  
“Shut up,” she hissed around the knife, screwing her face up in concentration while she searched. When she finally found the power source for the bindings beneath the chair, another small surge of confidence began to take root. As weak and ineffectual as her biotics were, they _ had _ to be enough to overload such a small mass effect generator, “I need to focus-”  
  
The unmistakable crack of gunfire cut her words short and Molly’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up to see Valla clutching her shoulder while Dineen struggled to shield them both. One of Briggs’ thugs was trying to tear down D’s barrier with a warp while the bulldog swapped his pistol out for an assault rifle. Briggs had a hand over his mouth, which was bleeding profusely, and his brows were pinched together. He was coming towards them, stepping over the bodies of two of his boys on the way.  
  
_ The hell did I miss? _ How _ did I miss it? _  
  
Molly shrugged and grabbed the tiny box the wires fed into before dragging out her shallow reserve of dark energy. She channeled it into the metal contraption, crumpling it in her hands. The moment the wires lost their charge Vinth strained against them, snapping them as though they were nothing more than a delicate tangle of threads.

The turian stood to his full, staggering height and charged away from his chair like a bull rushing towards a _ muleta _ , heading straight for Briggs and his drawn pistol.  
  
“No!”  
  
Molly fumbled over to the side so she could aim around Vinth, thrusting her hands forward to send unstable biotic energy hurtling towards the LT. It smacked against his hands and shoved his pistol to the side just as he pulled the trigger.

The shot went wide, but it still managed to graze across Vinth’s arm with a grisly spray of blue blood.  
  
Avinthus staggered back with a hoarse cry, managing to snap his hand forward to grab Briggs’ wrist before he could fall.. With a powerful squeeze of taloned fingers, the smug look on the LT’s face twisted into a hateful scowl. The stocky human let out his own furious cry, finally drawing the bulldog’s attention.  
  
Teeth bared, the bulldog’s gold-plated canine glittered menacingly as he swung his rifle around. Molly found herself staring into the barrel, her legs shaking violently beneath her. There was no way the bulldog would fire on Vinth with his boss between them, but Molly was unprotected with the exception of the knife that was back in her hands. She was also stupidly, _ stupidly _ out in the open now.  
  
Avinthus must have seen how things were unfolding, because in one fluid motion he brought his head down hard against Briggs’, cracking his face plates against the LT’s skull to leave him dazed. With his foe’s grip slackened, Vinth was free to snatch his pistol and fire three quick shots. 

The first missed the mark and bit into the office doors. The second ripped through the bulldog’s face just as soon as he started firing at Molly, who threw up a weak barrier and started running just in time.

When the third burst open the neck of Briggs' last man standing, the LT roared and threw himself at the turian. It was almost impressive: not only did Vinth tower over the former lieutenant, he was also designed to be a perfect predator. His strength, speed, and talons made it so he was never unarmed, even without a gun in his hands. Still, the LT struggled against him, never letting out more than a grunt as Avinthus’ deadly grip bit into him once more. If not for the turian’s weakened state, Molly had no doubt that Briggs would be shredded into meaty ribbons.  
  
As it was, the two of them were at a standstill. Molly gripped her knife and started wobbling towards Briggs, her face a mask of grim determination until Valla called out to stop her. She looked up and her jaw dropped: never had she seen such fury in the kind-hearted asari.  
  
The den mother of the _ Nova _ girls marched towards the turian and the LT without fear, shoulder bleeding freely and biotics storming over her skin to leap from the graceful arch of her crest like a crown made entirely of dark energy. Molly stepped back and reached for Vinth’s arm, dragging him away from the enraged asari. The turian relaxed at her touch, but as the fight drained out of him she could feel his muscles trembling. He needed rest, he needed blood, and there wasn’t much time to get it to him.  
  
Small though she was, Molly wrapped an arm around the massive turian’s waist to help brace him. When he inevitably went down, he’d go down hard without her to guide him.

Dineen exchanged a worried look with Molly before turning her attention back to Valla, who had finally met Briggs’ gaze. Everyone still standing in that room saw what she saw in that moment: fear.  
  
Briggs was one of the most notorious criminals on this side of Bachjret. He was a hateful man, a powerful man, and the look he gave Valla was rife with terror. Bleeding and broken, the asari had pieced herself back together with her hatred. She was through with being used, through with being complacent, and she knew what Briggs knew: once the fear was gone she could easily flatten him.  
  
“Fuck you,” the asari spat, then grabbed his face and watched on, emotionless, as every shred of biotic energy she had left inside of her crushed together to form a singularity directly inside the LT’s mouth.  
  
Just like that, one of the biggest arms dealers on the Citadel was snuffed out by the intense gravity of a singularity bursting his head into a pulpy mess of bone and gore. Valla stepped back, unflinching as the headless body before her was pulled up and around the core of her singularity like a ragdoll.  
  
Silence filled the office, broken only by the muffled pulse of club music vibrating against the thick glass window. The patrons below were oblivious as they flowed through their drugs and their drinks to tap out credits for the women sliding down the poles of the round stage.

Dineen was the first to move. She ran a hand along her speckled crest, eyes glued to the slow spin of Briggs’ floating corpse.

“So...what now?”


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to split the aftermath into two chapters, oops.
> 
> Vinth and the Nova girls struggle to keep it together until C-Sec and paramedics arrive.

Molly was vaguely aware of the fact that having an open wound near a turian bleeding as profusely as Avinthus was could be a recipe for disaster. She was, however, far more aware of the fact that she was willing to hold him steady come hell or high water. Lying bastard or not, he deserved to make it out of this, to see some good at the end of it all. His torture at the hands of Briggs was penance enough for his misdeeds. It wouldn’t earn her forgiveness, but it was enough to abate her fury.  
  
She shook her throbbing head and focused on keeping them upright. Both of them were trembling violently in the aftermath of their short battle, so staying vertical was a challenge. Slowly, she tried to coax the very tall and very heavy turian into stepping towards the desk so he could sit on the floor and lean back against it. He resisted, staying planted firmly where he was. There was a tension in his quivering muscles, but whatever he was thinking remained within the confines of his own mind.  
  
Feeling desperate, she took a moment to squeeze her eyes shut. It wasn’t just the tear in her scalp that ached, it was the huge lump that had formed just above it when Briggs cracked her head against the floor.

When she opened her eyes again she found herself staring into the ghastly smile of the bulldog. Half of his face was missing, but his gold canine still gleamed alongside his remaining teeth. She wanted to look away to avoid the horror show, but everywhere she looked there was a corpse or a spattering of blood. On top of that, the absurdity of the situation was punctuated by the headless corpse twirling around Valla’s singularity as though it had been pulled into some perverse _ pas de deux _ with the damned thing. 

They needed to get out of there.  
  
Dineen’s question still hung in the air but nobody was moving to answer her. Valla was frozen in place as much as Vinth was, her magenta gown stained with indigo patches from the bullet wound in her shoulder. Gone was the proud fury she had channelled so naturally just moments before; the asari was showing the telltale signs of shock. The younger maiden danced nimbly between the bodies on the floor until she was at Valla’s side, where she placed a large hand into the small of the woman’s back.

“We need to call somebody,” Molly’s level voice finally cut through the quiet, and she couldn’t help noticing the way Avinthus’ talons flexed against her arms when she spoke, “We need to call for an ambulance and get Flos to a hospital as soon as possible.”  
  
Another twitching of talons, but this time the sound of his name had the massive turian tensing all over. She needed to get him off his damned feet.  
  
“No,” he hissed, trying to preserve his voice, “Not yet.”  
  
He jerked forward so abruptly that Molly was tugged along, nearly falling face-first from the sudden movement. She managed to catch herself, then hurried to keep up with her hands on his arm just in case he collapsed. He _ should _ have collapsed by now with the amount of blood he had lost. Every step she took was unsteady. The constant ache in her head made it hard to focus, so she wasn’t sure where she was stepping.  
  
“The hell?” she tried to tug him back by his arm without hurting him any further, tried to stop him before they both fell over, “Are you trying to kill yourself? You need to lay down!”  
  
Vinth’s head swivelled back and the hungry look in his eyes made Molly’s stomach do flips. The intensity of his gaze was so familiar that it made her breath catch. Without realizing what she was doing the dancer pulled back and clutched a fist against her chest as though it would protect her from any more heartache, her lips drawn into a tight frown.  
  
Blood-stained mandibles fluttered and Avinthus narrowed his eyes, words straining in his throat. He was trying to say something, but his throat was so battered and swollen that his voice came in clipped notes. It wasn’t as though she could read his lips, either.  
  
So instead of speaking he reached out a large hand, wordlessly beckoning her closer.  
  
Molly hugged herself and stepped back, glaring out the window at the _ Nova _ crowd.

“_ Please _,” came the whistling hiss, followed by a softer and much more desperate, “Please.”

She knew he would keep fighting to stay upright until he accomplished whatever it was he was trying to do, so she made her way towards him and blinked hard as she watched his large fingers fuss with Briggs’ omnitool. By the time she reached him the fight rushed out of her with a heavy sigh; Molly was not about to watch him kill himself over whatever it was he felt he needed.  
  
The moment Molly was within Vinth’s reach the turian shot out a large hand to grab her wrist, tugging her towards him more gingerly than she had expected. Her skin crawled from the touch, but she steadied herself with a breath. It would be over soon, and when it was she would never have to see him again.  
  
He ran the smooth back of a talon under her palm until her index finger was stretched out before him. After fishing in his pocket for a moment, he pulled out a dark, carbon-coloured ring with a strip of metal inside the band. The ring was warm to the touch, and heavy. She scowled at it as Vinth slipped it on her, wondering what the hell it meant until she felt the gentle tapping of haptic feedback tickling her skin. Her omni matched the haptic taps and soon after the ring began to grow hot.  
  
“The hell is this?”  
  
Vinth blinked down at her slowly, his eyes heavy with fog. His mandibles were hanging slack on either side of his face and she could see the lines of exhaustion etched into the skin beneath his eyes. The blood loss was finally getting to him and it made her heart hammer in her chest to see him like that. He was riding his adrenaline to the bitter end, and that end was getting perilously close.  
  
“Does it tap again when it’s done?”  
  
He nodded, and this time he didn’t resist when she wrapped her arms around him and began to ease him to the ground.  
  
“Uhh, Moll?”

Dineen’s voice startled her, and she turned her head to look at the asari - an action she immediately regretted. A heavy throb in her head forced her eyes shut, so she gestured limply with her hand for her friend to continue, “I went ahead and pinged C-EMS with my omnitool, let them know the situation. They’re on their way with C-Sec.”  
  
Valla finally came back to herself. She grasped Dineen’s muscular biceps, blue eyes widening like she was a trapped animal.  
  
“No!” she hissed, glancing at the door, “I can’t go to prison, I can’t-”  
  
“You won’t.”  
  
Avinthus was leaning back heavily against Molly on the floor. She tried to stop him from talking and worsening his condition, but he kept on pushing himself to speak around the wicked bruising on his neck. The two asari down at them, Dineen with a dubious expression on her face while she placed a protective hand in front of the older asari.  
  
“The hell should we trust you for?” she demanded, twisting her lips into a wicked scowl, “You’re the reason we’re here in the first place. Fuck you, Flos.”  
  
He turned his head slowly so he could look at Molly with a dim, pale eye. His mandibles were still hanging loose as he fisted the fabric of her tunic, clutching at her shirt like a helpless child so she would back him up. She ignored his plea and looked out the window at _ Nova _ instead. Everyone down below was carrying on like nothing had happened, thanks in no small part to the heavy soundproofing of Briggs’ office. His secrecy had worked against him tonight - there was nobody to rush to his aid.  
  
Vinth’s fist clutched tighter, his talons scraping painfully against her skin.  
  
Molly caved again.  
  
“He might be a son of a bitch but he’s got connections,” her voice was flat and even, carefully measured so as not to give away the turmoil in her heart, “You’ll have to talk to the cops but there’s no way you’re going to prison over this. We were fighting for our lives. They _ won’t _ put you away.”  
  
She wouldn’t let them, though she didn’t say that part out loud. She’d kick and scream for Valla’s freedom even if it got her thrown into the cell next to her. _ Nova’s _ den mother had a sick daughter depending on her and a life she deserved to live freely. There was no way in hell Molly was going to let that woman rot in a cell because of Avinthus Flos.  
  
When neither Dineen nor Valla argued she finally let herself slump down and feel the damage done to her own body. She was exhausted to the point where it hurt to keep her eyes open and her head hurt so bad she couldn’t help worrying that she might have sustained serious head trauma. And the cherry on top of it all? Molly was the one with the skillset to get the bastard who dug this damned hole stable.  
  
She reached for the loose black shirt the turian was wearing and ripped it open, gingerly peeling the fabric away from him to reveal the scale of the damage done to his plates.  
  
What she found made her stomach twist painfully but she managed to keep steady. Dineen wasn’t so lucky. The asari made a disgusted noise that sounded an awful lot like a dry heave, but Molly tuned her out and cast her eyes around the room.  
  
“Valla,” she said softly, wincing when the asari jumped at the sound of her own name, “There medi-gel in here?”  
  
Valla hugged herself and nodded towards the wall behind Briggs’ desk. Dineen, who was in the best shape of all of them, went to the wall.  
  
“Press two hands hard against it and the display case will open up.”  
  
And so it did.  
  
Dineen let out a low whistle and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest while the wall split open. Two panels slid to either side with a hum, revealing an impressive gun collection atop four large drawers.  
  
“Third drawer down.”  
  
Dineen fetched an armful of medi-gel packs (which were colour-coded for different uses), and a few disinfectant wipes. Most of what Briggs had was typical supply for ex-military. He had a large supply of the stuff you apply and let work its magic to knit flesh and skin back together. It worked to speed healing along quickly but it left nasty scars - purely utilitarian stuff. The packs with the lilac-coloured labels were what Molly wanted. That type dried into a thin film once it was exposed to the air. It stopped bleeding, disinfected wounds, numbed pain, and helped keep trauma patients stable long enough to get to a hospital where they could be properly put back together.  
  
“Get your hands clean and cover the wound until the bleeding stops,” Molly instructed, once D had dropped some packs of medi-gel next to her and returned to Valla’s side. She began tending to the stocky, muscular while Molly began to suss out a plan to help Vinth.  
  
She couldn’t rub anything in, not without torturing him. His plates were splintered and his hide was covered in burns and blisters along his waist. He’d be better off if she just poured the stuff on, but that was hardly an effective way to apply medi-gel.  
  
Drawing her brows together, Molly squinted her grey eyes to pick out the tiny text printed on the label. Her head hurt enough that it was difficult to read, but once she saw and confirmed _ “Safe for use on patients with _ ** _levo-rotatory_ ** _ and _ ** _dextro-rotatory _ ** _ amino acids” _ she heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Most of the lilac label medi-gel was fine for levo and dextro patients, but she wouldn’t have put it past Briggs to turn his nose up at anything that could benefit a turian.  
  
“This is going to be cold,” she warned before snapping open the top of the squeeze-bag and pouring the medi-gel over Vinth’s carapace. He tensed, but otherwise remained perfectly still until she opened the last pack.  
  
Avinthus’ hand braced against her leg, the sharp points of his talons pricking her skin and raising the hairs on the back of her neck.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, a whistling tone sounding underneath his words while his throat strained.  
  
“You need to stop talking,” she frowned down at his hand on her thigh before pouring the last of the medi-gel over him. He squeezed his grip a little, trying to pull her attention back to him. The sting made it hard to ignore him, but she did her best and took a mental note of his pulse, breathing, and the state of his pupils.  
  
“I’m-”  
  
“You’re fucked up right now,” she cut him off, feeling a well of warm tears building up, “Briggs fucked you up. Now’s not the time, Flos.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
_ Me too _ .  
  
With slow, delicate movements, Molly plucked his talons away from her leg and placed his hand on his chest, leaving the medi-gel to do its job as she tested his reflexes as best as she could manage with him more or less in her lap. Shortly after she started the ring tapped against her finger again and she watched Vinth’s omni flicker, almost as if it were in response.  
  
_ Hm _ .  
  
She flicked her wrist and skimmed through the files on her omni and in the cloud, finding nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed as though the ring on her finger wasn’t designed to give _ her _ any intel, but Vinth.

She hated to press him further, especially when he had one foot in the grave, but…  
  
“If that’s data, Flos, I need to know where Leore is. Now.”  
  
He nodded, movements slow, and woke his omni. A long, taloned finger shook as he tapped through his contacts until his wrist began to droop.  
  
Biting back a sigh, Molly reached for his wrist and held it aloft, forwarding the contact he had selected for her to her own omni. Her hand was so small on his arm, her skin so pale against the deep, blue crust of blood that covered him. It made it hard for her to stay angry.  
  
Vinth turned his head to meet her gaze and she had to look away again. There was a wet sheen over the eyes that had captivated her so thoroughly before today and Avinthus Flos was not a man she wanted to see crying. She didn’t want him wearing her down again, didn’t want him weaseling his way back into her heart.  
  
Thankfully C-Sec and C-EMS arrived before she could give in.  
  
Their arrival inspired a whirlwind of activity. The medics got to work immediately, leaving C-Sec to check over the bodies before they began their questioning. There was a momentary delay when Valla’s singularity finally faded, dropping Briggs’ body to the ground with a wet splat.  
  
Two salarians were seeing to Dineen and Valla, fussing over the gunshot wound with a great deal of hemming and hawing as they tried to avoid stepping on meaty chunks of ex-marine. A shorter, lithe turian woman questioned the two of them in the middle of their examination, then followed them out of the office once they were deemed well enough to be moved from the crime scene. Valla was visibly distraught, but she kept herself steady enough to answer every question thrown her way. Molly watched them leave, her brows knotted together until Dineen flashed her a reassuring smile.

That woman was damn near unflappable.

It was a turian and a batarian seeing to Molly and Avinthus. Molly filled them in with as much detail as possible, gave them as good a report on his vitals as she could manage and assured them she was fine, just needed her head lac tended to and a full head scan to make sure there was no brain damage. She didn’t _ think _ there was, but head injuries should always get a scan, especially with the way her eyes kept shifting focus.  
  
Once Vinth’s medics started loading him into a stretcher, they started arguing about where to bring him.  
  
“You kidding me?” the batarian, a tall, bulbous woman with a face that screamed _ ‘I’m too old and tired for your bullshit,’ _ was pinching the bridge of her nose, “Huerta is too far away and this guy needs _ immediate _ medical attention.”  
  
“He’s _ stable _ and if he goes to Bach-Gen he’s going to look busted for the rest of his life, Pella,” the turian growled, her slender throat was taught and buzzing with unheard subvocals, “And I don’t know if you can tell, but he’s been through enough.”  
  
“She’s right.”  
  
They both glared up at Molly, who frowned back at them unflinchingly before nodding at the younger turian, “He’s going to Huerta. Quostis is the only doctor laying a hand on him.”  
  
Molly’s brow shot up, its usual withering effect lessened by the blood caked on her face. It was difficult to see the full depth of her scathing appraisal through a dark, red crust.  
  
“Huerta has plenty of capable doc-”  
  
Molly raised a hand to silence the turian, who narrowed her bright, yellow eyes at the human’s audacity.  
  
“_Quostis _ will see to him, so take him to Huerta.”

They exchanged a look, one that she knew well. To them, she was just the patient’s family making ridiculous comments and demands. She was someone to be pacified. They nodded even though had no intentions of calling for Quostis. Really, though, all they had to do was get them to Huerta. Molly would ride in the back with Vinth, then ask for Quostis herself once they got there.  
  
Once the medics started loading Vinth into his litter, the second detective prowled his way over to Molly and fixed her with a penetrating glare. His bright, red colony markings looked severe against chocolate brown plates, and his amber eyes gleamed within them. He was tall, too - built to intimidate.  
  
It was working.  
  
“Name?” his voice was a low growl.  
  
“Molly Thorne,” she said quietly, politely.  
  
“His name?”  
  
“Avinthus Flos.”  
  
_ That _ caught his attention. His brow plates rose momentarily, but whatever thought had occurred to him upon hearing Vinth’s name he dismissed quickly. After a quick shake of his head and a flick of his mandibles he continued with his questioning.  
  
After introducing himself as Detective Xillis, he gave the medics a moment to switch on the engines and start floating their litter. Then the questioning began in full force: what was her job at _ Red Nova _? What kind of relationship did she have with Briggs, Briggs’ men, Valla and the other dancers? He asked what it was like working there and if she knew anything about the weapons Briggs moved and sold, then he started asking about Avinthus’ role in everything and what she knew, so Molly told them everything.

She told them how they had slowly become friends (leaving out anything deeper), and how she suspected he was using her as his excuse to hang out at an establishment with an owner notorious for his hatred of turians. She explained how she was clueless to everything Flos was doing until Briggs found him out, then Dineen came for her and pulled her away to safety. She also told him who she thought he was, and who she thought his father was. The name Erigo really pulled a response from the detective, but he did little more than flick his mandibles again.  
  
The only details Molly glazed over were the ones about her and Dineen’s plans for getting free of Briggs. She told Detective Xillis that they tried to escape; he didn’t seem the sort to put much stock in the idea of “premeditated self-defense,” so she didn’t feel inclined to tell him.  
  
She endured his gruelling questioning until Vinth’s litter was loaded into the ambulance. Oddly enough, they had to talk over the rhythmic bass booming from inside the club. The detectives and medics had parked and entered through the alley, so the only people they disturbed were a handful of dancers in the locker room. Some of them lingered in the doorway, staring, but inside the club proper everyone remained blissfully unaware of the goings-on. Molly fully expected messages from every _ Nova _ staffer that had her contact over the next few cycles, a fact she resigned herself to with a sigh.

Once the medics were ready to move out, the _ Nova _ girls exchanged contacts with the Detectives, who returned to the crime scene to search for surveillance vids. A part of her suspected she would be seeing them again, but that was a worry for another time.

The more pressing concern was time. The three women didn’t have much of it before C-EMS shuffled them off to their respective hospitals. Molly was heading to Huerta with Avinthus to help him get the care he needed while Bachjret General was more than capable of handling Valla’s gunshot wound. Bach-Gen also happened to be the hospital where her daughter was, so the asari wanted to go there. The idea of being with her child also helped her panic fade a little, though her brows were still pinched together tightly enough that she could hold a pencil between them.  
  
“You’re going with her?” Molly asked Dineen, unsure of what else to say as she reached a small hand towards the two asari.

She stopped abruptly the moment her fingers were close enough to touch Valla. The weight of her own part in what Avinthus had caused was finally sinking in and she felt like she had no right comforting them over the hell she helped bring about. Valla’s blue eyes glanced down to her trembling hand and clasped it between her own, a surge of her old self returning to her and chasing away her frayed nerves.  
  
“Yes, she is,” she tugged Molly close and wrapped strong arms around her. The tenderness of the embrace, the warmth of it, was shocking in how good it felt. The sad fool hadn’t realized how desperately she needed that comfort. Her defences crumbled within Valla’s arms and Molly felt her whole body quivering until every emotion she’d be packing down came bubbling to the surface in large, fat tears. Once they spilled, they raced down her cheeks and splashed onto the blood-stained magenta fabric of the asari’s dress.  
  
“We’ll be fine, my little flower,” the words were more a gentle coo than anything else, delivered with motherly affection that Molly hadn’t known since leaving Earth. It was staggering to hear, harder to resist when she was in such dreadful emotional turmoil. She gave in and clung tightly to Valla's broad chest, burying her face in the woman's shoulder while she shook and allowed herself to be soothed with kind hands and the soft uttering of a promise.

“I’ll make sure to find you once they let us go, okay? We’ll talk, all of us.”  
  
Then, just like that, Molly was being ushered into the back of an ambulance with tears streaming down her cheeks and carving through the red crust that had formed there.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the aftermath.
> 
> In this chapter, Molly still doesn't get a good sleep.
> 
> There might be a longer wait for the next chapter, as eleven and twelve were originally a single installment that had to be chopped up after it started dragging on.

Chasing after Vinth to advocate for his care was the right thing to do, Molly knew it was, but that didn’t stop her from feeling sick about it. She didn’t _ want _ to do it, she wanted to stay with Valla and Dineen. A part of her needed them, but she knew that with a word they would be there for her. Avinthus Flos didn’t have anybody on the Citadel, so as desperately as she wanted to be free of him, she knew what she had to do.  
  
Vinth’s mandibles were fully slack now, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She knew he’d pull through, but she also knew the next few weeks would be hell for him. As much as she hated what he did, she refused to compromise her own integrity by allowing some inferior Bach-Gen surgeon to throw him back together like they were hamfisting puzzle pieces into the wrong spot. With the brutality of everything he had endured, Quostis was the only one who could put him back together neatly enough to help him feel whole again, _ that _ Molly was sure of.  
  
Briggs had him alone for a few hours and had spent that time revelling in breaking the turian down, likely revelling in the hell he caved into Vinth’s pale hide. He would carry enough scars from the experience that he didn’t need to to look like a pincushion for the rest of his life, too.  
  
She still felt uncertain about what she was doing, but there _ was _consolation in knowing that what she was doing was right even when it didn’t feel good. Molly twisted her wrist and brought up her omni, flicking through her messages to find the new contact from Vinth’s omni. His only person on the Citadel, aside from...well. The stranger was his only person on the Citadel.

_ Lana, hm? _  
  
Molly fired off a quick message: _ You a friend of Avinthus Flos? I need your help. _  
  
The response came faster than she expected.

_ Lana _ _ : Friend’s a reach. I know him, sure. Who is this? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Molly _ _ : Molly Thorne. I know him from _ Red Nova _ . _

There was a longer pause this time.

Molly climbed into the back of the ambulance, felt the haptic ping from her omni that told her there was a message waiting. She had to endure a little longer, though, as the tired batarian with the impressive frown was picking at the rend in her scalp just behind her left ear, numerous eyes narrowed in shrewd appraisal. The medic masterfully wielded a squeeze bottle of sterile water to wash away the blood, both blue and red, before injecting either side of the wound with a tingling wash of antibiotics.  
  
“You’re lucky you’re not too dextro sensitive, kid,” the woman’s name was Berel, and while her glare hadn’t lessened any, her voice had softened just a smidge, “There was a lot of blue blood in there. You’ll be taking meds for a few days because of it just to be safe, I’d say. Him, too.”  
  
Molly offered a shallow nod in response, then took a deep breath before asking, “Who do I talk to in trauma that can actually get things done? Who calls the shots?”  
  
Berel’s frown was back in full swing, “You’re still on that? Come on, they’re not just going to call Quostis for-”  
  
“I get it. She’s the best, she’s important, she’s not just going to take every busted _ bare-faced _ turian dragged out of a murder scene,” Molly sighed and leaned forward, propping her head up in her hands with her elbows braced on her knees, “But I’ll be working with her soon enough, that’s got to count for something. And apparently that guy’s family is a big deal, anyways. From what I can tell, if Quostis treats him and the care is good, his parents should be more than capable of an impressive donation. Huerta’s Innovations ward would be grateful.”  
  
“Hmmm. Did you say you’d be working for her?”  
  
“I’m asking for a name, nothing more.”  
  
Berel sighed and threw her hands up in defeat, and in that moment Molly realized that exasperation would never be more apparent than it was on a tired batarian with four eyes to slowly close for dramatic effect.  
  
“I’d say no, but you and your friends don’t seem like the type I should piss off,” Berel acquiesced, her voice still tight with trepidation, “Briggs is a big name around here, you know.”  
  
Molly shot a glare at the batarian, grey eyes bright with ire. She knew _ that _ far better than some tired old medic.  
  
Berel coughed into her hand and glanced away, knowing she had said the wrong thing. Her forehead pinched and she focused on inspecting Molly’s torn scalp.  
  
“Dr. Hessina Fiojin,” the medic finally relinquished, staring hard at Molly’s head in order to avoid her partner’s scathing yellow eyes, “Asari matriarch who likes to draw on brows and wear black lipstick. Kinda purplish, very spooky.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
The turian fluttered her slender, burnt-sierra mandibles with a huff before putting her attention back on Vinth. Berel directed her own attention on Molly: her reflexes, pupils, and the giant lump on her head.  
  
When she was finally left to her own devices, the human leaned back on the bench attached to the wall of the ambulance and went back to her messages.  
  
_ Lana _ _ : Why are you messaging me? What happened? You somewhere secure? _  
  
_ Molly _ _ : Briggs got him. We’re heading to Huerta now in the back of an ambulance. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Lana _ _ : I’ll meet you there. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Molly _ _ : I’ll have a red rose on my lapel. _ _  
_

_Lana _ _ : Clever girl. You’re not bad, Thorne. _

Molly’s joking tone was not a reflection of her mood. Her face felt like it was permanently fixed in a scowl, but this “Lana” would be far less inclined to help her if she was a bitch right off the hop. It seemed wise to finesse a little before she started biting heads off.  
  
The rest of the trip to Huerta was blissfully uneventful. The sirens from their ambulance parted the flow of traffic, shaving precious minutes off of their commute. When they finally arrived, Molly realized it was a struggle to keep her mouth shut and let the paramedics do their job. She wanted to cut in, but she endured in silence. If she was about to start making demands, she’d have to make sure she wasn’t out of their good graces first.  
  
_ Finesse _ , she reminded herself, watching everyone around her carefully even as her head throbbed and her scalp itched.  
  
She distracted herself by keeping an eye out for the attending physician Helen had mentioned, hoping against hope that she and Quostis were both on the clock. Fate seemed to be working for her, too, as it wasn’t long before she spotted a blue-purple matriarch who looked like she was stuck in a teenaged goth phase.  
  
_ Perfect. _  
  
They were just about to take Molly for her scan when she piped up with a very no-nonsense air about her to say, “I want to speak to Dr. Fiojin.”

The resident tending to her was a bright-eyed salarian who blinked and tilted his head. He didn’t seem inclined to argue once Molly began to scowl, so instead he hollered at the asari. Her deep, inky blue eyes glanced over towards them even as the rest of her remained perfectly still. She had been engaged in conversation with a volus sporting the colours of a Huerta Memorial orderly.  
  
Fiojin’s rasping voice halted momentarily before she called out, “What is it, doctor?”  
  
From the way Fiojin assessed both Molly and the young salarian it was clear that she suspected the latter was incompetent. That, or she was _ very _ good at tough love.  
  
“She asked for you!”  
  
Molly’s attention rounded back on the salarian, wickedly curious considering he would be her senior soon enough. He was on the defensive (which didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in Molly as a patient) and she found her hand itching to reach up and cover her head lac in order to protect herself from him. Could such a limp personality really stitch her up properly? While she wasn’t particularly vain, the woman hardly wanted to end up sporting a grisly scar and a huge bald patch for the rest of her life.

Before she could begin to stress, Fiojin disrupted her thoughts with a sharp tone as she drew near, quietly demanding in her low rasp, “Who’re you, then?”  
  
“Nobody you know,” Molly struggled to keep her tone measured and even somewhat pleasant, though exhaustion was starting to drag out the words, “But I need your help. I need you to page Dr. Vivolo Quostis and tell her Molly Thorne needs a favour in the form of a big, busted-up turian.”  
  
She nodded towards Avinthus and watched as Fiojin’s face twisted with empathy. Good. She wasn’t sure if Quostis was the type to remember a nobody like her, so pity points from the goth-ish asari physician were nothing to scoff at.  
  
“Fine, but don’t blame me if she doesn’t come down our way. She’s been in surgery all day with that statue of hers.”  
  
Something told her that so long as Vivolo Quostis got the message she would show up, if only because she seemed the sort who would give in to curiosity. Whether or not she remembered the foolish med student who prattled on about _ conigo _ , she would likely be intrigued by a stranger demanding her. Molly just hoped she had the surgeon properly pegged.  
  
“You his family, then?”  
  
It was easier for asari to ask that, she knew. The salarian politely averted his gaze, but asari didn’t find any shame in dating outside of one’s species. Still, Molly shook her head.  
  
“His family’s back on Palaven and he can’t advocate for himself right now.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Whatever Fiojin was thinking Molly would never know. The matriarch’s severe features did soften a little, however, and she shooed the young salarian away so she was free to guide Molly into a chair held aloft using the same small mass effect engines that floated the C-EMS litters. The human pulled her grey eyes away from Vinth to stare at her omni, questions buzzing through her aching head. How far away was Lana? Or better yet, when would they get to Huerta?

“He’s good but he’s afraid of me,” Fiojin assured her distracted patient, who had to blink to remember that the physician had just shooed her resident away, “So let’s make sure you don’t end up with a nasty scar, hm?”  
  
“Sounds good,” Molly dropped her wrist to sleep her omnitool, “Think he’ll last?”  
  
She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to size up the competition even with her scalp dangling open and her head beat so bad she was lucky if all she had was a mild concussion.  
  
“He’ll be brilliant once we toughen him up a bit,” came the raspy, chuckling response, “We don’t take on anything less here.”  
  
“That’s reassuring.”  
  
_ And hopefully my _ brilliance _ is enough that they won’t fire me as soon as they find out I’m a former stripper involved in the murder of an illegal arms dealer _ .  
  
It would be very, _ very _ nice if her potential could overshadow _ that _ part of her resumé.

* * *

The next hour or so was spent going through the motions she normally observed from the outside looking in. She was brought for scans, fussed over, and eventually given the all clear. That meant no head trauma, which was a small mercy in the wake of all that had happened. Even so they wanted to hold her for observation, which meant Fiojin could take a little extra time on her fussing and her stitches. 

Molly realized fairly quickly that her first impression of the asari was way off the mark. The resting bitch face and black lipstick made her seem much more severe a woman than her gentle touch and doting concern implied. She was stern with hospital staff, sure, but that was a mark of years of leadership. And on top of it all? Her patient care was _ spectacular _. She clucked gently while she buzzed Molly’s hair away from the wound, careful not to clip away too much. Understanding what it meant for a human with long hair to be shorn like a barn animal came from years of work in xenomedicine, but it also came from having a very compassionate soul.

After that realization Molly realized she was very fond of Fiojin.  
  
The two women remained silent during the remainder of Molly’s brief check-up. The matriarch made sure her patient eased back into the hospital bed before giving her a final once-over and checking her own omni.  
  
“Huh,” the asari frowned and ran a hand over her crest, “Quostis saw to your guy. He’ll be heading into surgery soon, but she wants to see you before she scrubs in. That okay with you, Ms. Thorne?”  
  
The idea of seeing Dr. Vivolo Quostis like this didn’t exactly sit well with Molly, but feared the consequences of saying no to Huerta’s top (and most influential) surgeon. So instead of refusing she nodded and waited, sending a quick message to the mysterious Lana to let them know exactly where she could be found. The message was one she immediately regretted. How had she not learned anything after all that had happened?  
  
Trusting Avinthus Flos was the reason she was in a hospital bed in the first place, so why the hell did she trust his contact enough to give away her exact location? How stupid _ was _ she, really?  
  
She stewed on that question while she awaited the breezy and elegant surgeon that was heading her way, button nose crinkling while she frowned.

* * *

When Quostis found her, Molly had already dropped her wrist to stare up at the ceiling and question whether she was stupid or if some sick part of her was inviting disaster into her life intentionally. A light, thoughtful hum signalled the doctor’s entrance and Molly felt her jaw clench as her eyes swivelled towards the gap in the curtain.

“Rough day, Thorne?”

Quostis was holding back. The captivating, lackadaisical air iconic to the turian doctor was gone, replaced by someone more reserved and far more judicious. It was warranted, of course, but the scrutiny put Molly on edge.  
  
Scraping herself together, the soon-to-be-surgeon sighed, “Not my worst.”  
  
“Why don’t I buy that?”  
  
At least the surgeon’s tone was still somewhat playful.  
  
“Money not so good for the Citadel’s hottest scalpel jockey?”  
  
That broke Quostis, at least a little.

Molly closed her eyes and sunk back into her lumpy pillows while the surgeon fluttered with laughter, drawing near enough that the dancer could feel the heat from her hand when she leaned against the frame of the hospital bed. When she opened her eyes, she was looking into jewel-bright blue eyes framed by iridescent plates that looked so like moonstones and smoke.

“I heard bits and pieces,” the surgeon continued, her bright voice straining a little while her throat hummed with subvocals Molly couldn’t make out, “D’you have time to give me the summary before I head into surgery? The talk will spread once you start here, you know.”  
  
Molly gave the doctor a hard look, unsure of how or where to begin, unsure if she’d even have to worry about starting at Huerta once word got out about who she was and what she’d been involved in.  
  
“You _ will _ be starting here, Thorne,” Quostis’ voice was unyielding, as though she knew exactly what Molly was thinking and refused to see her succumb to her bitter thoughts, “Getting tangled up in bad shit doesn’t mean _ you’re _ bad shit. You can lay it out for me so I can put a stop to any talk that might happen.”  
  
_ Too easy _ .  
  
Pushing herself up enough to sit, Molly fixed the turian with a dubious glance, her lips still shut tight. Dr. Quostis was being very generous towards a stranger, and a student with no guarantee to last as an intern at that. On top of that, Quostis’ speech was informal to the point of being unprofessional, which was throwing Molly for a loop. Gone was the spritely creature she had met back at the Siel’iphrae clinic; in her place was someone whose edges were a little more crude.

When Molly finally spoke it was hard to keep her voice as even and measured as before.

“Why?” she demanded, her drive to impress and play the part of Top Student stifled by fatigue.  
  
“Because these people will eat you alive,” Quostis shrugged, “They didn’t have to work part time to pay for school, they didn’t have to scrimp. Some, sure, but for the most part? The doctors here come from the best educational backgrounds, and usually the best education is paid for by the top dollar. Most of ‘em are spoiled shits until they get a few months of good, hard work in ‘em. They’ll want to rip you to shreds when they find out you’re one of the patients from the _ Nova _ crime scene.”  
  
Molly narrowed her eyes and waited for the surgeon to continue.  
  
“I won’t presume to know your whole story, but if you were working at _ Red Nova _ I think it’s safe to assume you’re strapped for cash and working your ass off to graduate from Siel’iphrae,” the surgeon scratched one of her slender mandibles with a blunted talon, “The bags under your eyes when we met were a pretty good indication too, kid.”  
  
“I’m not the sad little broke girl you seem to think I am,” she pulled her eyes away from the turian to stare at the ceiling, “My family has money, but my parents have their own goals and none of them are free. I didn’t want them to burn through their savings so I could go to school here, so I got a job.”

Her tone was, perhaps, a little unkind. Maybe she shouldn’t be so bitter, but the idea of being a charity case didn’t sit well with Molly either. Stubborn pride was yet another tick on her list of flaws.  
  
_ Maybe it’s time to take a long, hard look at myself. _  
  
“You gonna tell me why?” the dancer asked again, glancing back at Quostis with furrowed brows.

_ I can self-reflect later. _  
  
Finally Quostis grinned a very turian grin with a wide flare of mandibles that revealed a glimpse of pointed teeth and blue tongue. Whatever it was she was trying to suss out, she seemed to have come to a conclusion. The lithe, elegant woman pulled back from the hospital bed and tilted her head to the side, hands on her jutting hip bones.  
  
“My wife says I have to stop taking in strays,” she gave an artful shrug, “I don’t always listen.”  
  
“You taking me in, then?”  
  
Molly fixed the doctor with a withering arch of her brow, this time fully effective thanks to having the blood washed away. It did little more than amuse Vivolo Quostis. Disappointing though it was, it hardly came as a surprise.  
  
“Under my wing, maybe, but only if you can keep up. I like strays, not freeloaders.”

Whatever Quostis’ motives: pity, self-gratification over rendering good deeds, or something else, Molly knew that she would leave once she got what she wanted. Fine then.

She drew a deep breath and told Quostis the story, or at least the short version: she worked at _ Red Nova _ because Valla was good to her, accommodated her schedule, and the tips made it worthwhile. Briggs was a bastard, but he mostly stayed clear of them. She got to know Vinth, things started getting worse, and they all wound up locked in Briggs’ office fighting for their lives. Molly even included the bits about Briggs’ headless, floating body dancing with Valla’s singularity.

“That’s a hell of a story,” Quostis ran long, thin fingers over the back of her head, brow plates pushed low in contemplation, “You said the kid’s name is Flos, huh? Lost his brother?”  
  
Molly nodded.  
  
“And he’s a Flos from Palaven?”  
  
Again Molly nodded, though she couldn’t really be sure if anything Vinth had told her was true, nor could she be sure that Dineen’s suppositions regarding Erigo Flos being the liar’s father were true. She reminded Quostis as such, but the surgeon dismissed her, her pretty facial plates drawn into a thoughtful expression.

It seemed like Quostis knew Avinthus’ family, or at least suspected she did. Couldn’t hurt to help her along, then, “I think his father’s name is Erigo. Some Hierarchy financial bigwig-”  
  
Quostis held a hand to stop Molly, chuckling while she did. The humour broke through her contemplative air and drew some warmth from the bright-eyed turian, “Erigo’s no financial hotshot, kid, we leave that to the Volus. Actually, he used to be military until an injury had him back at desk work. The guy’s a numismatist. He studies coin, currency, you name it. Made it into the news a while back because his coin studies unearthed a huge Hierarchy scandal from a time before spaceflight, but that’s about it.

“The Flos name _ does _ move in higher circles back on Palaven, but the real hotshot of the family is Spera, Erigo’s wife. _ She _ is a force to be reckoned with. Spera was Blackwatch, now she’s a general. I met her at a fundraiser gala for Huerta a few years back - she and her son are almost mirror reflections of each other.”  
  
“So when I asked for your help you got curious, then when you realized who he might be, you couldn’t say no?”  
  
“Bang on,” Quostis shrugged, “His family could fund years of research, if we’re being honest. And since we’re on the topic of the Flos kid, I couldn’t help but notice something when I saw him earlier...”  
  
That got Molly’s attention. She adjusted her posture and waited for the hammer to drop, her eyes never leaving the surgeon’s. There was a strange tension in the air between them.  
  
“Your friend was pretty busted up long before Briggs, huh? That _ conigo _of his looks like nasty business,” Quostis was watching her, waiting for a tell Molly would never give her.

They both knew Avinthus was the reason she had asked about _ conigo _ when they first met; there was no need for further discussion. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence the surgeon pressed on, though with more delicacy, and asked, “Do you want me to update you when I’m done?”  
  
“There’s no need.”  
  
There was a knowing look in the turian’s sharp eyes but she held her tongue regardless. After observing the injured human for a moment, she nodded her understanding and dropped her hands from her hips.  
  
“In that case, rest up so you can get back to your studies. You’ve come too far to get knocked out of the race now,” Dr. Quostis flicked her wrist and let her fingers dance across her omni screen. A few moments later, Molly’s own tool tapped her wrist and she looked to see the surgeon’s contact request on her screen.  
  
With a shrug, Quostis smoothed out the folds of her uniform and added, “I wasn’t always a hotshot surgeon and I didn’t get here on my own. I earned every credit that paid for my education, but I had people to lean on. You need anything at all, you reach out.”  
  
Molly’s brow arched again, but this time it was due to curiosity more than anything else. From all she had seen of Dr. Vivolo Quostis, she assumed the glamourous turian had been born into privilege and opportunity. She wore her status well, so the idea that she struggled to get where she was came as a shock.  
  
“I’ve gotta scrub in, Thorne,” Quostis sauntered away and held open the privacy curtain around Molly’s bed before glancing back over her shoulder with a comely flutter of mandibles, “Take care of yourself.”  
  
Just like that, Molly was alone again. She managed to get a few messages out, first to Dr. Helera to forward her medical records and inform the professor that she would still be under observation for the next cycle’s classes, then to Dineen. She knew she should send word to her parents, but she still wasn’t sure how to frame things so they wouldn’t panic. It seemed best to let them live in ignorance a little bit longer.

When exhaustion finally began to snake its roots through her, soaking up the last of her energy and urging her to sleep, she let herself sink into the pillows and give in to sleep.

* * *

Molly woke hours later to the sound of her privacy curtain sliding open and felt her heart hammering when she saw an unfamiliar blue face. The asari wasn’t wearing a hospital uniform, nor did they seem like they were there on any official business. They wore dark leather pants and a loose white top, a short silver chain gleaming on their neck.

Shooting upright, the dancer felt dark energy crackle across her skin reflexively. She couldn’t rule out that a stranger sneaking into Huerta to find her might have been an ally of Briggs’, even an asari.  
  
“Relax, Molly Thorne,” the asari said quietly, “My name’s Filana, though you know me as Lana. I just came for my ring.”  
  
It took a few moments of breathing, but Molly’s heart slowed and she felt her hands curl out of the fists she didn’t even realize she had them clenched in. Well, that was new, though it didn’t come as a surprise. She took a moment to look at her white-knuckled hands and sighed. It was a good thing Huerta Memorial’s onboarding pamphlets had included a lot of flexing about their mental health resources for staff. She was going to need it sorely.  
  
Lana cleared their throat lightly, snapping Molly to attention. They wore a very kindly expression, their mouth crooked up in an apologetic smile. With a grimace, the dancer slid off the strange ring and moved to hand it over to the stranger before her better judgment finally kicked in. She snatched her hand back and sized up the curious asari.  
  
“I need information,” she said flatly, clenching the ring tight in her fist, “And I’m pretty sure you can help me.”  
  
Just like that, all of the kindness leeched from Lana, who arched a brow and appraised the wounded human sitting in the hospital bed before them. They seemed curious as to why Molly had enough gall to start making demands.

Molly, for her part, arched her own brow in response. For a moment the two were locked in a quiet standstill, eyes locked together and shoulders thrown in a display of hot-tempered posturing.  
  
“I take it you didn’t like what that idiot turian had to say?” Lana sighed, folding their arms across their chest and cocking a hip, “So why’d you help him?”  
  
Molly tilted her head, finding the question a touch odd, “He was half dead. Hard to say no.”  
  
“Which means he didn’t get the chance to ask for help,” Lana sighed again, this time through their nose. They shook their head as though they had expected that to happen, then continued with, “Well, shit. Tell me what you need to know, then.”  
  
Their tone made no promises as to whether or not Molly would get what she wanted, but she was going to ask regardless. She was going to ask _ and _ she was going to get her way.  
  
“I need to find out where Briggs was keeping an asari name Leore Dela’sin,” Molly’s brows furrowed and she met the asari’s gaze, unflinching, “He nearly killed her. Fuck, she might be dead. Apparently he had one of his own personal medics take her in because the paranoid bastard didn’t want C-Sec sniffing around. I need to find her.”  
  
It was impossible to miss the fight disappearing from Lana’s eyes. Whatever their deal was, they were at least good enough deep down to want to help someone in need.  
  
“Consider it taken care of,” they reached out their hand for the ring, “I’ll find out where she is and you’ll know where she is as soon as she’s safe. I promise.”  
  
Molly looked from Lana’s blue palm to their sharp eyes and pulled her hand to clutch it against her chest. It was a fine promise, but the only connection she shared with the asari was Avinthus Flos, whose lies had done enough damage.  
  
“I can give you a reason to trust me, then,” Lana sighed, pinching the tip of their crest between their fingers while they fought to calm the ugly grimace their lips had curled into, “I’m C-Sec. I work in the tech department and part of my job is developing surveillance gear. I was working with Flos because I felt for him and because he was a great tester for prototypes. There’s a lot of red tape to get through for testing surveillance tech at C-Sec and he was giving me a shortcut. What we did was illegal and I need that ring to save my own ass. Now that you know, you can end my career. They’d just have to scrub your omnitool to know you were telling the truth. I can get your friend to safety and you can save my ass. Deal?”  
  
It was a nice little speech. Molly nodded, but she kept her hand held tight to her chest and met the strange asari’s eyes with a determined set to her chin. Lana fixed a pointed glare on the dancer’s tiny fist, clearly impatient, but she wasn’t going to hand it over that easily.  
  
“Consider this collateral,” she said flatly, letting her face relax into a perfect deadpan, “I’ll hand it over the second I see Leore is safe.”  
  
The asari’s lips drew into a thin, tight line and their eyes glittered dark, but eventually they relaxed their posture and smile as pleasantly as they could manage.  
  
“I can’t fault you for playing smart. You’ll hear from me, just keep that thing safe, clever girl.”  
  
Molly nodded and watched the asari sashay away with a flat expression. Now that she was alone she felt like she could finally relax a little and focus on healing. She might even be able to get some studying in-  
  
A haptic tap from her omnitool drew Molly’s attention and she woke the screen, her stomach plummeting at what she saw. Mail from her mother, with a subject that read _ ‘I hope you know we follow Citadel news. Contact me ASAP’ _ with a link to a news story about _ Red Nova _ and the death of its owner, the notorious criminal and former Alliance Lieutenant Harrison Briggs. The article mentioned that some of the dancers had been tangled up in the struggle alongside a barefaced turian…  
  
Well, her parents weren’t stupid. They could put two and two together, which meant…  
  
_ Shit _ .  
  
It was going to be a long, long day cycle.


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the better and Molly's life speeds along towards her exams.
> 
> Once she's through with school she goes out with her class for a night of fine food and dancing. She has a blast, then a familiar face appears.

It was a strange sensation to walk through the Citadel feeling so changed and unsettled while the rest of the station went about its normal daily routine. Molly felt like she was carrying a lead weight in her chest when she stepped outside of Huerta, her shoulders sagging as she went through her mental checklist of things to do.  
  
She owed her parents a proper call. She had mailed them, but they deserved a full explanation and the best way to do that was by vid call. On top of that the _ Nova _ staff had received instructions to clear out their lockers. She still wanted to visit Valla and Dineen, plus she wanted to be ready to meet Leore the moment that she was brought to safety.  
  
That was on top of her classes and the exams she still had to study and prep for.  
  
A hot, sick feeling punched the dancer right in her gut and she had to take a moment to breathe. She touched her fingers gently to her chest in a vain attempt to ease the tightness in her chest. It didn’t work.  
  
_ Well. The world doesn’t stop because I’m having a bad day. _  
  
In moments like these, when life pushed her to her limits and tested her, she thought of her nan. Tansy Thorne was a woman who had fully come to life in the wake of adversity, meeting every challenge with breathtaking defiance in order to carve out a life for herself and her child. Whenever Molly had asked how she had done it all on her own, her nan would grin and tell her, “One step at a time.”  
  
_ One step at a time, Thorne. _  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before taking her first unsteady step.

* * *

The plan was to start by heading home first, but since _ Nova _ was closer to the tram station and her bag with all of her school supplies was still in her locker, Molly decided to make that her first task for the day.  
  
She made her way to the tram station in her bloodied clothes, grateful for the thin blanket that Fiojin had allowed her to take from Huerta and wrap around herself. The angry red seam that slashed across her scalp and her awkwardly buzzed hair drew enough attention as it was that she didn’t need to flaunt her multi-coloured blood stains on top of it.  
  
At least everyone on the tram gave her a wide berth, likely convinced she was just some mad woman who might attack them if provoked. The resting bitch face she wore didn’t help with that, either, but that set well with her for the time being. Molly was very, _ very _ ready to get away from people for the rest of her day cycle.  
  
The commute was uneventful. It was always uneventful, but after everything that had happened it was a challenge _ not _ to expect the worst. Molly’s grey eyes were narrowed sharply, scouring every detail of every stranger she passed in order to determine whether or not they had been on Briggs’ payroll. It would come as no surprise if one of the other Cat-6 meatheads that lurked around _ Nova _ decided to take matters into their own hands and avenge their beloved leader.  
  
Nobody came after her, though. Nobody watched or followed her, they all just went about their days while trying to politely avoid gawking at the crazy human with the nasty head wound and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
The tram finally got her to Bachjret and pulled into the station near _ Nova _ with the light squeal of an overclocked mass effect engine. A sense of dread flushed through Molly as she stepped onto the platform, leaving her cold.  
  
Briggs and his men were gone, C-Sec would likely have seen to that. Wouldn’t they? Was it even safe for her to head there just for her clothes and data pads?  
  
Uncertainty gripped her and held her frozen in place until the impatient crowds of people trying to go about their day shoved her out of the way. The dancer, whose chest already felt like it was being squeezed by some massive unseen hand, felt tears prick her eyes and cursed under her breath.  
  
She was _ terrified. _  
  
There were too many people. Too many shoulders bumping hers, too many arms pushing her to the side, too many eyes on her from all angles. Shit, she really shouldn’t have declined speaking with someone from the psych ward at Huerta. How the hell was she going to find the courage to head into _ Nova _ when-  
  
“Molly?”  
  
She recognized that voice. Desperate to latch onto the comfort of a familiar presence, Molly spun around so quickly her auburn hair fanned around her, drawing a few frustrated glares from the hairless passersby. She didn’t care if she pissed anyone off, though she _ did _ pull her hair over her shoulder to keep it from happening again.  
  
The source of the voice was a girl she didn’t know all too well from _ Nova _ . As per usual, Una was a vision. Her thick, black hair was styled in an immaculate bob and she sported a full face of makeup, though her eyeliner was smudged a little around the corners of her eyes. It looked like she had been crying, but she still managed to flash her charming, gap-toothed smile at Molly.  
  
“Una!”  
  
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as the two women stepped towards each other and Una reached to clasp her fellow dancer’s tiny hands. Molly had flinched and reeled back, hugging herself tight to cover up her blood stains.  
  
“Fuck. You were in the thick of it, weren’tcha?” Una’s head tilted to the side, huge brown eyes full of empathy, “Heard bits and pieces about what happened. It’s good to see you’re okay, love.”  
  
As much of a gossip as she was (a trait that normally put Molly off), Una’s presence was a huge relief, as was her kindness.  
  
“Thanks,” she replied softly, “Are you heading into _ Nova _?”

The dark-haired woman nodded and offered up her arm so they could make the short trek there together. Molly hesitated at first, but when she felt her breath shaking she decided it was for the best. She allowed Una to wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her out of the station, the lovely scent of the woman’s spice-and-wood perfume calming her. It smelled lovely.  
  
“Valla’s still at the hospital I think, and Dineen’s with her,” Una explained to fill the silence, “C-Sec shut the place down after you were all rushed away and the rest of Briggs’ boys scattered. Without an owner we’re all jobless, but a few of the boys from the bar offered to hang around so we could all grab our gear. We didn’t have a chance before: C-Sec wouldn’t let us near in case any of the boys were around and a firefight broke out.”  
  
Molly nodded, but as the silence began to stretch out again Una’s willpower crumbled and she gave into her gossiping nature.  
  
“So what happened?”  
  
How many times would she have to retell the story before she was free of it? Tears stung Molly’s grey eyes once more, so she blinked them away and took a breath before she began.  
  
Una was a rapt listener, cataloguing every detail so she could spread the story to the others later. It was mildly off-putting for the smaller of the women, who turned her nose up at gossip, but there was an advantage here: if Una spread the story around there was less chance of Molly being needled for details by the rest of the _ Nova _ crew.  
  
So she recounted the details as quickly as she could, passing the story on in hopes that she would be spared having to tell it to another _ Nova _ staffer. She did, of course, leave out the fact that she and Dineen had planned on getting caught. It seemed unwise to share that particular detail with anyone other than the asari, so she filed it away instead.  
  
Una was wide-eyed with awe by the time they reached _ Nova _ . She was completely flabbergasted by the idea of Valla being capable of any level of violence, let alone mashing Briggs’ head into chunks with her biotics. She blinked her big brown eyes and squeezed Molly’s shoulders, a thoughtful look passing over her once _ Nova _ was looming over them.  
  
The two women stood staring up at the red neon lights that flickered overhead. _ Red Nova _ blinked above the door in bold text while holos of human and asari dancers twirled and gyrated to broadcast exactly what one could normally expect to find within. As they passed through the doors into the dim light of the club, however, all they found was the timid batarian busboy standing in front of the round bar with a drink in his hand.  
  
“Hey, Greth,” Una called out, her hand slipping to rest on the small of Molly’s back as they neared, “Just head on back?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Greth politely averted all four of his eyes as he sipped his drink. Uncharacteristic boldness took hold shortly after, however, and he nodded at the bar, “It’s up for grabs. Nobody to hold us accountable and all. Want one?”  
  
Molly shook her head. She wanted to get clear of this place as quickly as possible, something Una sensed.  
  
“Sorry, love,” the dark-haired beauty shrugged, grinning when she noticed Greth paying her a little extra attention, “But let’s keep in touch? We’ll all be going our separate ways but it doesn’t mean we should be strangers.”  
  
Her wink left Greth speechless, so he just nodded and returned to his drink.  
  
Una giggled and ushered Molly into their locker room when she noticed the smaller dancer nervously eyeing the elevator to Briggs’ office.  
  
“He’s a sweet one,” she explained, “Always kind when you can get ‘em talking. It’s fun to pull the rug out from under him now and again. Now, let’s get our stuff and get the hell out of this place.”  
  
They split and went to their respective lockers, collecting their things in silence.  
  
Molly felt her stomach drop when she opened hers.  
  
_ Right _ .  
  
She forgot that she had taken her bag to Valla’s with her. Somewhere in the shuffle it had been left behind, which meant that the only thing left in her locker was the shopping bag that held the stupid, _ stupid _ massage kit she had wasted so many of her credits on.  
  
This time there were too many tears to blink away. An ugly rage took hold of her and Molly slammed the door of her locker to kick it in once, twice, then a third time before Una rushed to her side and grabbed her shoulders.  
  
“Oh no, no love no,” she said softly, pulling the smaller woman into her arms and hugging her tightly, “You’re not helping yourself with that.”  
  
“Don’t care,” Molly’s voice was thick with emotion, “Feels good.”  
  
Una chuckled and smoothed her hair, letting her cry into her shoulder until she stopped sobbing. By the time they pulled apart again Molly had ruined the poor woman’s shirt with her tears.  
  
“Sorry,” she pulled the blanket around herself again, “It’s been-”  
  
Una shook her head, “You don’t have to do that, love. It’s fine, no apologies needed. Here.”  
  
Molly watched on with a blank expression as the dark-haired woman pried open her dented locker and pulled out the bag there. It was a kind gesture, one that she should be grateful for, but she so desperately wanted to set that bag on fire that she almost screamed when it was handed to her.  
  
“Was that all you had? Aside from your silks I mean.”  
  
She nodded, figuring she might as well take it so she could get her money back. Once Una was done, the two climbed the roundbar to pack up Molly’s silks, then made their exit together through the front with a final goodbye to Greth.  
  
When they were finally free of _ Nova, _ Una turned and asked, “Anywhere else you need to go, love?”  
  
The smaller woman paused a moment before admitting that her things were still at Valla’s and she wasn’t sure what to do: she needed her schoolbag.  
  
“I’ll give D a ring,” Una smiled, “We’ll get in and grab it, and after that…”  
  
Molly tilted her head to the side and waited for the other woman to continue. Una smiled gently and reached out to card her long fingers through Molly’s hair.  
  
“You need a haircut, love. I thought I should offer, since we’ll all be tight for cash for a while.”

* * *

By the time Molly had arrived home she was so grateful for Una’s help that she was determined to do something to repay her once she was able. The dark-haired woman had gotten the punch codes for Valla’s apartment from Dineen, helped Molly collect her things, then took her back to her own apartment to cut her hair. She’d even gone so far as to dye it, something that Molly hadn’t realized she’d ever wanted until she saw the bottle of mulberry purple dye in the bathroom.  
  
A drastic change in hairstyle seemed fitting in the wake of all that had happened. This was her first step into the other side of the hell that was _ Red Nova _ , after all.  
  
Molly ran her fingers through the strands of mulberry hidden within her auburn hair as she drew near her apartment, grounding herself in Una’s kindness. When her doors opened to reveal her new bed she felt her breath catch but she endured. She dropped her pack and the shopping bag before making her way to her bathroom to take a good, long look in the mirror. Her scalp still looked ugly and sore, but at least she didn’t have the awkwardly buzzed hair any longer.  
  
Una had done an impressive job. She had worked the shorn patch into a stylish undercut along the side of her head, then took off some length and coloured a single streak of hair with the remnants of the mulberry dye. She had even worked geometric lines along the undercut with her buzzer, which helped distract from the massive scar and looked good to boot.  
  
_ Perfect _ , Molly thought with a sigh, _ At least I won’t look like a battered victim when I call my folks _ .  
  
That was next on her list. The call was long, tear-filled, and difficult. She told her parents all the nitty-gritty details of what went on behind the scenes at _ Nova _ , told them everything she knew and suspected about Avinthus, and finally recounted what had happened in _ very _ brief detail. They didn’t have to know exactly how that fight went down, just that they had all made it out alive.  
  
It was at that point her parents granted her a small mercy: they told her they’d cover her expenses until she got her first paycheque from Huerta. She argued with them at first, knowing how much that many credits would set them back and insisting she could find another job. They settled on allowing her to pay them back when she started working again, which solved one of her more pressing concerns.

With the money issue tackled, Heather and Lucas pressed on, insisting they come to the Citadel earlier than her graduation. They fell back into their usual playful ribbing, but Molly knew they were changing their schedules because they were worried. They wanted to see that she was okay for themselves and she wasn’t about to argue _ that _ . She had been homesick ever since she traded her home back in Newfoundland for the cold, sterile station drifting in the Serpent Nebula.  
  
When their teary vid call was over, Molly took stock of everything she had left to do feeling much lighter than she had when she left Huerta.  
  
_ One step at a time, Thorne_. _ You’ve got this. _

* * *

The next few months passed by in a blur. True to their word, Lana had hurried C-Sec along in locating Leore and bringing her to safety. They brought her to Huerta, where Molly met them to deliver their ring.  
  
That exchange had been brief, clinical. Lana wanted the ring and Molly wanted to wash her hands of everything connected to Avinthus Flos, so the two exchanged very brief communications and parted ways. During the time between their meetings, the dancer had realized it was likely the ring had scrubbed her own omni, and while that ticked her off, well...it wasn’t worth pursuing. She wiped her omni clean, changed all of the passwords for her personal accounts, and thought no more of it. Lana could look at her barren credit account and the hours of medical research all they wanted. There was nothing incriminating on her omnitool.

Besides, what mattered was that Leore was now free. Once she was allowed visitors Molly, Dineen, Valla, and all of the other _ Nova _ girls began frequenting her room in order to keep her company and help her healing along. She had made decent friends with all of them thanks to her sweet nature, and every single one of them wanted to see her well.  
  
She was in rough shape when she was first brought in: her face was a mess and her spirits low, but every visit from her girls invigourated her. By the time Molly’s exams were drawing near Leore had regained so much of her bright personality that it was hard _ not _ to feel hopeful about the future.  
  
The rest of the girls felt it too, like some sort of welcome infection. Not all of them had an easy time finding jobs on such short notice, but their frequent visits to see Leore had brought them all together far more than work ever had. Those who found jobs right away offered a place to anyone who hadn’t. They looked out for each other and grew closer week after week until they had become inseparable. 

Molly thrived on her newfound friendships. She had tried offering her place up as well, but the girls had all laughed her off and reminded her that she had more important things to worry about. Besides, her apartment was _ tiny. _ Not that that stopped them from visiting, usually with food or coffee to help her focus on her studies. The best thing they offered her, though, was a distraction.

Avinthus had messaged her once after that night at _ Nova _ , asking if they could talk. She ignored it, stewed on it, then eventually forgot about it thanks in no small part to the circle of women now supporting her.  
  
By the time her parents arrived, Molly was doing so well that they were actually in shock. They had been worrying for so long that they had themselves convinced they would find their daughter heartbroken and destitute, a shell of her former self. Instead they found her vibrant and alive, eager to be done with school and start the next part of her life.  
  
Between the _ Nova _ girls and her parents, the last months of Molly’s education breezed by. She walked into her exams and practicals with her head held high and aced every single one of them. Her confidence had even managed to shake Rivix, who was handling the pressure less gracefully than she would have expected.  
  
And waiting for her at the end of it all? One night of stupid fun with the classmates she had finally started getting to know a little. She had been looking forward to an excuse to doll up, get out, and celebrate on someone else’s dime. It was the perfect way to celebrate the end of her education at Siel’iphrae.

On the day of her last exam, Rivix and the oversized turian barnacle that was stuck to him reminded her to be ready for collection in precisely four hours before they all parted ways. Molly took a cab home, collecting her mother along the way. The two women had been planning for this for days, shopping and leaving poor Lucas to mope in the dark. He had some good insights on what she should wear, but beyond that his sheer inability to take the “getting ready ritual” seriously had him banned from this particular occasion.

Heather helped her daughter style her hair, straightening it and sweeping it back into a sleek, high ponytail. Una had already touched up her dye and the geometric patterns in her undercut, which had grown on her enough that she kept it after her scar had healed. Molly even paid her this time, as the dark-haired woman was working at a beauty salon. When her hair was done, Molly and her mother shared a drink of wine and put together an outfit.  
  
Even though her clothes were simple, they were sharp. She pulled on black tights and a short circle skirt that matched the mulberry dye in her hair, pairing it with a black crop top that sported dramatic cold shoulders and long sleeves. The neck of the top was what really impressed, though: in lieu of fabric was a gold-plated collar that gleamed in the light and painted her skin a honeyed colour. Strappy black block heels and smoky makeup with a high gloss lip finished her look, and by the time she was ready her mother was whistling.  
  
“Plan on turning heads tonight, do you?” she asked with a playful grin, admiring her handiwork with a nod reminiscent of a farmer taking in the lay of the land.  
  
Molly grinned right back at her, “What can I say? I’m on a power trip and I want to ride the high.”  
  
“You sound like your grandmother sometimes, you know that?”  
  
When Molly beamed, her mother tossed a pillow her way from her seat on Molly’s bed. The sturdy bed with the wooden frame that Avinthus had delivered to her without a second thought as to the cost. She had to shake her head to chase away the thought when she stooped to pick up the pillow: it was not a night for moping.  
  
“We get you next,” Heather continued, sensing her daughter’s shift in mood, “I know your girlfriends want to throw you a party, bumblebee, but your father and I will be treating you to dinner tomorrow, okay? We’re so proud of you.”  
  
“Thanks mom,” her eyes were watering, so she did the only thing she could think to do to spare her makeup the tears and added, “I’ll pencil you in.”

* * *

Molly’s mom walked her out of her apartment to await her ride. When a sleek, black stretch limo whirred into the parking zone of her cheap Bachjret apartment building, she turned to Heather and the two exchanged giddy smiles. 

After a brief hug, Molly climbed in the back of the limo and turned bright red when the entirety of her graduating class whooped, hollered, whistled, and shook tentacles at her.  
  
“Well, Thorne,” Rivix swirled a glass of what looked like asari honey mead, “You clean up. Good! They’d never let us into _ Ryuusei’s _ if you dressed like you normally do.”  
  
The salarian’s jab was drowned out by gasps around the limo. Most of Molly’s classmates were already a drink in, and it seemed like Kormae had been waiting to pick her up before dropping the bomb of where they were going. At least, she suspected it was a bomb by the reactions she saw. She had no idea where_ Ryuusei’s _ was, but she assumed it was a big deal.  
  
“That s-swanky sushi place around Silversun Strip!?”  
  
That was Dyma, one of the asari in their class. She was still young, even for a maiden, and she clearly didn’t handle her drink well by the way she was weaving.  
  
Rivix leaned back in his seat, a vision of smug satisfaction as the limo erupted with cheers. Xiphias was leaning over him to offer Molly a thin flute of something bubbly, which she gladly accepted. Her cheeks were already warm from the wine, but she figured she’d stop drinking once they started eating. She’d worked the club scene long enough to be turned off of making a complete drunken idiot of herself.  
  
She accepted the drink and was shocked to see Xiphias cocking a mandible in a grin. The mood was electric and she was getting swept up in it, but how could she not? Every single human, salarian, turian, hanar, and asari in that limo had busted their ass for years to get to this moment. After tonight they would no longer be students: it was exactly the right time to be loud, happy fools and celebrate until they shut the bars down.  
  
But first, dinner.  
  
The moment their party stepped out of the limo and into Ryuusei’s, Molly understood the hype. The entire restaurant was wrapped up in floor to ceiling fish tanks. She felt like she had stepped into an aquarium, except the aquarium had lavish bars and seating, not to mention some of the most high profile patrons she had ever laid eyes on. She didn’t recognize them all, but her classmates filled her in during their wait to be seated. And even if they hadn’t the bodyguards were a good enough clue as to the status of the clientele.

When their maître d finally led them to their table, Xiphias began to stare hard at the sole hanar in their class, her silvery eyes narrowed in appraisal.

“This one can tell that you are staring,” Folandyn said with a haughty fluttering of tentacles.

The broad turian stood up straight at that, clearing her throat with a cough before asking rather sheepishly, “Isn’t it...cannibalism?”

“This one does not plan on eating hanar tonight,” came the terse reply, “And would hope that hanar is not on the menu.”  
  
The maître d assured them that no, they did _ not _ serve hanar before he pulled out a seat and ushered Molly in with a wink, inspiring a flurry of giggles from the drunken Dyma. Molly shrugged off the laughter and beamed back at him, appreciating his brown eyes and thin moustache with a long look and making sure he caught on. His response was an encouraging grin.  
  
_ I wonder if I can milk it for extras on my plate_.  
  
She _ did _ try milking it, though the extras never happened. Even so, the dinner was unlike anything she had ever eaten. Molly had always been fond of sushi, but the stuff served at this restaurant was a different food entirely. Every flavour and texture was considered, and there was a balance between both that left her blown away. She almost felt guilty eating it, as though some club rat from Bachjret was unworthy of such an elegant feast.  
  
That didn’t stop her from eating her fill. She savoured every last bite, grateful that she kept to non-alcoholic cocktails alongside her meal. If she had gotten to tipsy she would never have been able to appreciate the dinner.

That didn’t stop her classmates from dissolving into giggling messes. Most of them were used to this level of luxury, she could tell by the way they perused the menu and spoke with the maître d. It seemed a little outrageous to Molly, but she couldn’t fault them for being accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle.  
  
Once their plates were empty, Folandyn was the one to pipe up first, demanding of Rivix, “Where next? This one wishes to _ boogie _ .”  
  
Molly almost spat out her last mouthful of dessert at that. Folandyn had been learning slang from one of the other humans in the class, and of all the things he could add to his repertoire...  
  
“There is a skybar at the top of Silversun,” Kormae informed, scratching at a chocolate brown horn with a twitchy finger, “Called _ Dance _ . Very to the point, but _ very _ nice. Best spot on the Citadel even. The walls, ceiling, _ everything _ is a big glass dome except the floor. It’s the best view on the Citadel and the music is always good. Hard to get in, but I’ve got _ connections _ .”  
  
Molly rolled her grey eyes but she could feel her excitement regardless. She hadn’t danced for the fun of it in years. _ Nova _ had been a job, and the way she danced there...well, she was looking to earn some credits when she danced, she hadn’t been trying to enjoy herself at all. The idea of dancing for the hell of it was one that had her eager to get moving, too.  
  
With a sidelong glance at Folandyn, Molly winked and said, “Let’s boogie, shall we?”  
  
The trip to _ Dance _ was short enough that they didn’t bother with the limo again. Rivix sent the driver home, then forwarded contact info and a code to the whole class. His family had paid one of the nicer cab companies on the Citadel to keep cars on standby for them. All they had to do was punch in the code when they hailed their cab and it would be a free ride. It worked out better that way, as they could all leave when they pleased.  
  
With the limo sent away, they all made their way to the elevator that would take them to _ Dance _ . The ride up was electric as their excitement began to mount. Music was pulsing overhead, catchy dance beats with live vocals layered over top. Molly was tapping her thigh along with it until she was aware of a pair of very green eyes staring at her.  
  
“Sorry Rivix, not interested,” she flashed him a playful grin, revelling in the way he staggered back in shock. Xiphias bristled too, mandibles flushing tight against her face that Molly would _ dare _ make such a comment. Lovestruck fool.  
  
“ _ Not _ interested, Thorne,” the salarian insisted hotly, “Just noticed you looked excited. Not used to seeing you…”  
  
“Smile?”  
  
“Watch it, Xiphias,” Molly threatened.  
  
“Molly likes dancing!”  
  
That was Dyma, who threw herself at the small human and hugged her shoulders, “Let’s dance!”  
  
As though it had been waiting for a cue, the elevator’s doors hissed open just in time for Dyma to drag Molly by her wrist onto the dance floor. And what a floor it was! They really _ were _ in a giant dome, one with a roundbar in the centre like _ Nova _, except the stage this one was wrapped around was low to the floor. There was an asari DJ with a flashy setup on the stage, singing over her mix in Thessian, her eyes closed as she weaved along.

There weren’t many people watching her, however, as the view of the Citadel from the dome was far too alluring. It was a breathtaking vista, enough so that Molly tripped over her feet because her neck was craned back to soak in the view. Thankfully Dyma caught her and streadied her with a great, drunken smile.

The asari was rather fetching in her snug lilac dress and the hot pink makeup that swirled over her face. The two of them together had already turned some heads, a fact that sent Dyma into fits. Molly just sighed and allowed herself to be guided into the throng of dancers.  
  
“Let’s _ dance! _ ” the asari cried out again, and this time Molly was happy to oblige, except that her entire class was watching her. Waiting. They had _ no _ idea how good a dancer she was, so why not up the drama? If they were holding their breath to see Molly Thorne actually cut loose for once, she’d give them a show.  
  
Molly folded her arms and cocked a hip, waiting for a lull in the music before arching her brow and looking each of her classmates in the eye.  
  
“Waiting for a show?” she demanded, and of course it was Dyma who nodded vigorously, cheerful thing that she was.  
  
With a theatrical flourish, Molly gestured for them to make some space, which had Rivix rolling his deep, green eyes. She timed her first steps to the pick-up in the beats, stepping into the circle they had formed. Almost immediately, her classmates began to cheer and damn did it feel good to dance for the hell of it.  
  
She didn’t have to shake her ass or seduce anybody into coughing up credits, she had all the freedom in the world to just have _ fun _ . So she did, and she let herself get carried away with it. Molly flexed all of her best moves before pulling Dyma out to dance with her.  
  
Their cleared space fell apart, then, and they all gave in to the music. Even the walking turian bulwark Xiphias Tirreste was letting loose.  
  
It was the most fun she had in ages, letting herself fall into a crowd of strangers to laugh and flow through the music, showing off a little just to let the confidence soak in. A few people tried to move in and dance with her: humans and asari of all shapes and genders, even a _ krogan _ , but she didn’t care. She just wanted to dance.  
  
The only break she wound up taking was for water, which was brought over to her by _ Rivix _ of all people when she stepped away from the crowd. She had picked up on it a little bit throughout the course of the night, that Rivix was a surprisingly observant and considerate person. Insufferably arrogant and full of himself? Sure. But he paid attention to everyone, spotted when they needed something and showed up with it. It was too bad he didn’t show that side of himself more often, but perhaps he felt a little more pressure to be a good person when he was hosting?  
  
Regardless, she grabbed the water he offered graciously and stepped away from the crowd some more to watch the sprawling metropolis outside the dome.  
  
“Never thought I’d see it,” he commented, and Molly could see him gripping his chin thoughtfully in the reflection on the dome.  
  
She turned around and looked over the rim of her glass, her narrowed eyes eliciting a chuckle from the salarian.  
  
“Molly Thorne having fun,” he answered with a smirk, then added, “With people.”  
  
Frowning, she finished her water and handed him the glass with her brow arched. He hesitated, then took it without so much as a word. Molly recognized that the conversation could go one of two ways: she could tell him off or play along. She decided to play along.  
  
“Firsts across the board tonight then,” she smirked when Kormae’s brows shot up in question, “ _ You’re _ not a total dick tonight.”  
  
“No, but you’re a bit of a _ cloaca _ ,” he ribbed back, and both of them chuckled.  
  
“Glad you came, Thorne,” Rivix continued with a shrug, “Half the club is too, it seems.”  
  
Molly rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips before sounding off with a sarcastic, “Ha ha, Rivix.”  
  
“You’re right. They were probably looking at me,” he nodded, “Not that one though. Not sure if turians are your type, but if so, perfect specimen of his species. Large, battle-worn, can’t keep his eyes off of you.”  
  
Molly felt her stomach drop. Why did that sound so foreboding? Why did she feel like she could describe this turian perfectly without turning to see where Rivix was looking?  
  
“He’s stuck at the bar, though. Doesn’t seem interested in dancing, so maybe the krogan better...no, no, krogan too brash, awful suggestion. _ Dyma _ would-”  
  
“ _ Why _ are you so interested in pairing me off?”  
  
Rivix stepped back, startled by the acidic tone Molly wielded when she snapped at him. It had come out of nowhere and she regretted it the moment she spoke. It wasn’t his fault she thought Avinthus Flos was at _ Dance _ .  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” she sighed, “Fuck. I _ am _ sorry, Rivix. But the question stands.”  
  
Clearing his throat, Kormae looked about himself awkwardly.  
  
“Was looking forward to connecting with all my classmates,” he shrugged, “Did a bad job of it at Siel’iphrae. Like you. Most think I am a...dick? I know humans are one of many sexually-charged species, like asari. Dyma was receptive to advice, thought you might be too.”  
  
Molly nodded, riddled with guilt. The guy was just trying to build bridges, an area she also needed work in. She could certainly empathize, and he deserved better than her shitty attitude for trying, “Right. Sorry. Can I ask you a question?”  
  
She was staring into the reflections in the glass dome, trying to spot the familiar pale eyes and the snowy white plates, “Tell me what the turian looks like? The one who’s staring?”  
  
“Ah! You _ are _ interested!”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
Kormae began to cheerfully list off all of the details in an excited babble, “Tall, even for a turian, big shoulders but slender waist. Dressed _ very _ nicely, black leggings and shirt with gold fastenings, expensive-looking make. Palaveni clan markings, and...ah! Talons are buffed, too, so likely interested in sex outside his species-”  
  
“Rivix,” she was losing patience, sighing through her nose, “What colour plates? Hide? Eyes?”

“White, to all of them… No. Maybe blue eyes? Hard to tell. _ Very _ striking- Thorne? Are you alright?”  
  
_ No, I’m not fucking alright. _  
  
“Is he still looking over my way?”  
  
“Not in a while, no,” Rivix sounded confused, intrigued. He leaned back against the dome so he could look down at her, try to read what she was thinking, “Couldn’t keep his eyes off you while you were dancing. Glanced over once when you stepped away from the floor. You know this turian? Should I sick Xiphias on him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
No, she would not engage with him. No, she would not let Rivix or Xiphias or anyone else engage with him.  
  
“Fuck it, let’s just dance.”  
  
She grabbed the salarian’s thin wrist and felt his hand twitch, paying no mind as she dragged him back to their classmates and fell into the music. She wanted so badly to lose herself in it and feel that freedom again, but every time she closed her eyes she saw that pale, striking face with the intense and searching gaze. She could feel the sharp scrape of talons tracing over her skin, could feel his tongue curling in her and making her-  
  
_ Fuck _ . _ Stop thinking of that. _  
  
More than anything else she could feel the ache in her heart, so she tried desperately to forget he was there. Try as she might, however, Molly could feel the prickling sensation in the back of her neck that told her she was being watched. Even if it was all in her head it felt so real that she couldn’t forget it or leave it behind. She was tangled in a treacherous web of memories and heartache and didn’t know how to break herself free.  
  
Why, after all this time, would she run into him _ here? _ Why was he even still on the Citadel? And what was he doing at _ Dance _ ?  
  
_ ‘Talons are buffed, too, so likely interested in sex outside his species-’ _ _  
_ _  
_ Molly shook her head and whirled around, glaring through the crowd towards the bar.  
  
_ Fuck_.  
  
She was glaring right into a pair of familiar pale eyes. It was Avinthus alright, though changed. His face was no longer bare, but painted in sweeping lines indicative of Palaven. The markings were pale on most Palaven-born turians, but on his snowy plates the yellow tones were more noticeable. On Avinthus the paint looked like pale gold and was complemented by the fastenings on his clothes. He still favoured black, but gone were the simple clothes of a bare-faced turian. His outfit looked _ nice_, expensive enough that thinking about the price stressed her out.  
  
_ No wonder he didn’t blink at spending his credits on that bed, _ she thought bitterly. She was going to turn away and head back into the crowd but she was getting pushed to one side by dancers who wanted her out of their way. There was a familiar creep of panic snaking through her, but Molly took a deep breath and stepped off to the side. Crowds weren’t as difficult as they were when she first left Huerta months ago, but she still struggled from time to time. With her emotions already frayed and sparking it was a little easier to feel on edge.  
  
Staying clear of the dancers meant she was walking closer to the bar. Once more she looked up and once more she made eye contact with Avinthus, who seemed to be as shocked as she was, judging by the flared mandibles and wide-open eyes. He wasn’t looking away and neither was Molly, instead she felt a heat creeping up her neck and a quickening in her blood clumsily cutting its way through all of the turmoil storming in her.  
  
Why did she feel so damn happy to see him?  
  
_ Fuck. _  
  
Something in her face must have shown her frustration because Vinth finally wrenched his gaze away and turned back to his drink to leave her be. Before he turned, however, she saw the flex in his throat and the way he caught curious glances from a few nearby turians. Must’ve let something slip, then. Not that she would know.  
  
He was good at keeping her in the dark.  
  
“C’mon, Molly,” a voice called out from within the crowd, “Aren’t you gonna keep dancing? Let’s dance!”  
  
_ Sorry Dyma _.


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Vinth need to have a serious talk.
> 
> Molly and Vinth don't have a serious talk.
> 
> This entire chapter is NSFW.

Molly couldn’t help herself.

Every time she tried to go back to her classmates she found herself looking for Avinthus at the bar until she finally gave up and headed towards him, questioning her sanity the entire time. What she hoped would come of it she couldn’t say, she just knew that she couldn’t make heads nor tails of her emotions, nor could she make any sense of what she was thinking.

So instead of heeding her better judgment she followed her feet to the bar with her arms folded over her chest.  
  
_ This is a bad idea. _  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
There was no need to bother with formalities; after all that had happened between them manners and decorum were out the window. Besides, she felt like she was unravelling from the sight of him alone and it felt good to give a little attitude, even if it was petty.  
  
Avinthus didn’t answer. Instead he turned to face her before looking down at his drinking pointedly and taking a sip. It was hard to miss the way he held his mandibles flush to his face to remain inscrutable. He even seemed to be keeping his subvocals quiet, or at least she suspected as much since she couldn’t pick up any trace of secondary vocalizations.  
  
“Smart ass. Why are you on the _ Citadel _ ?” she demanded hotly, folding her arms over her chest.  
  
He finished his drink and set it down, mulling over her question for a moment before answering, “I never left.”  
  
His voice sounded different. It was still deep, still flowed through her ears and down to her belly like liquid gold, but there was something off from before. A slight rasp?  
  
_ Did his throat not heal properly? _  
  
In spite of everything she felt a worried pang in her chest before she flushed it out with a frown.  
  
“You should go back to your friends,” he continued, turning back towards the bar.  
  
Molly felt her temper flare and her good judgment started fading entirely. How _ dare _ he dismiss her after watching her dance all night like some slavering creep! He put her through hell, put her _ friends _ through hell, and all of a sudden he has the gall to turn her away when she tries to talk to him? Wasn’t _ he _ the one who wanted to talk in the first place?

Molly scowled and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back around so he had to face her. _ That _ was her good judgment going out the window, because she forgot for a moment just how strong Avinthus was. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm out, sure, but when he turned in his seat he rolled his hand to flick hers off of him, snatching her wrist and moving her arm backwards so he could hold her away from him. It happened in the blink of an eye.  
  
“What the-”  
  
“You want nothing to do with me?” he growled, releasing her from his grip but not from the scorching look in his eyes. He didn’t need to wait for her confirmation to know she had been thinking just that for months, “Then leave.”  
  
“I-”  
  
She stopped herself, felt the fight leave her. He was right, but...  
  
_ But what? _ _  
_ _  
_ But she still didn’t know what to make of the turmoil he inspired in her. She was pissed, yeah, bitter and twisted up over everything, but then there was that part of her that couldn’t forget everything else that had happened between them. Her sad little heart was begging her not to be too rash, not to chase him away before she heard his side of things. Unfortunately that same frail part of her that still cared for him was terrified to hear the truth. What if he really _ was _ just using her?

Molly didn’t realize she was spacing out until she felt his eyes on her again. He was taking in every detail from the shoes to the snug fit of her top, pulling away only when his gaze reached the thin white line of her scar. She didn’t get the sense he was slavering, though. It felt more like an inspection, like he was checking to make sure she was okay.  
  
“You look…” his voice trailed off, a bitter note laced through the words loudly enough to pull the attention of two turian women standing a little ways down the bar. Molly glared at them until they turned away to mind their own business.  
  
“You look great Molly. Go enjoy your night-”  
  
“Let’s get out of here.”  
  
That broke him. Vinth pulled back, mandibles fluttering as he tried to figure out where her invitation had come from.  
  
“I need answers-” she told him simply, cut off by a salarian shoving his way into the bar. He knocked her forward and she caught herself by placing a hand on Avinthus’ thigh.  
  
“I tried-”  
  
“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut him off, “Not yet.”  
  
His gaze dropped down to look at her small hand pressed into his inner thigh and she felt a wicked heat flush through her.  
  
_ Shit _ .  
  
She hadn’t _ planned _ on putting her hand there, but once it was there they both fell into memories that left them a little short of breath.  
  
_ Shit, shit, shit _.

She kicked herself mentally but that still wasn’t enough for her to pull her hand back. The way she felt about the pale turian with his intense gaze and clever tongue was like some curse she couldn’t be rid of. Even worse was the fact that some small part of her _ invited _ it. Partly because she knew what he could do to her and partly because it was a welcome distraction from the jumbled feelings she was struggling to sort through.  
  
Molly left for the elevator knowing Vinth would follow. When the doors opened to reveal yet more patrons pouring into _ Dance _ , she swivelled around to level anyone looking to join their ride to the first floor with a glare.  
  
It felt good to know that she could command a crowd with a look.  
  
She stepped into the elevator alongside Avinthus, who was holding himself more rigidly than she had ever seen him. She could tell he was waiting for the hammer to drop, waiting for her to vent every frustration she’d been stewing in during the months they were apart.  
  
She kept her eyes trained on him, scraping through her flurried thoughts in hopes of finding what she needed to say. Then he stepped towards her and she lost track of what exactly was happening. She vaguely recalled the sad thrum in his voice and the rough touch of his knuckles as they brushed her cheeks towards her scar, skirting along the full length of it.  
  
After that things got jumbled. She wasn’t sure who initiated, just knew they were tangled up together with her pinned against the elevator wall. She knew she shouldn’t let it happen, knew that they were just avoiding a difficult conversation, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop. It occurred to her that she might be avoiding the end of them and not just the tough talks, but she pushed the thought down until it was silenced.

Vinth’s hand shot to her hip and he squeezed the soft flesh there, his blunted talons biting into the swell of her ass hard enough to bruise. Molly whimpered and felt her chest tighten; his touch flushed her with a warmth that sent goose flesh sweeping over her and raised the soft hairs along her arms.

She inhaled sharply, leaning her head to one side to expose her neck for him. The light snap of his teeth by her delicate skin caused that small rush of air to sigh out of her again and Molly was lost to the seduction of giving in to a too-tall turian with hungry eyes that made her weak in the knees.

They were interrupted by the chime of elevator doors and knowing looks from the crowd looking to shuffle their way in. Avinthus put his hand on her hip to keep her close as he guided her through the throng while Molly hailed a sky cab using the code Rivix had given her.  
  
Once they had broken out into the less crowded street, Vinth wrapped a three-fingered grip around her wrist, lifting her omni close to him.  
  
“My place is closer,” he rumbled, tapping in the navpoint.  
  
They spent their short wait in silence, Vinth’s hand resting on her hip, his fingers flexed so his talons were pressing into the skin. She realized as they stood there that he was holding onto her like he expected her to leave, but before she could find the words for the question she was forming the cab pulled up to them.  
  
The mass effect engines chirped as the self-driving sky car slowed to a stop and Molly stepped aside to let Avinthus get the door. They slipped into the back seat and let the door drop to a close behind them. An alarm chimed to remind them to buckle in, but Molly had already swung up to straddle him, silently thanking whatever gods might exist for tinted windows as the cab glided forwards with a hum.

Their tongues found each other easily, the metallic taste of him in her mouth bitterly familiar. Molly shoved the thought aside and pulled his cowl to bring him lower so she could push her forehead head against his. She could feel their breath mingling as she trailed her fingers over his sensitive waist, could feel him shiver beneath her when she nudged her face up towards his neck and nipped lightly at his hide.

Avinthus drew a sharp breath, hands slipping under her skirt to grab her thighs. He paused for a moment and she wasn’t sure if he was about to squeeze her or push her off until a trill sounded from his throat and he slid his palms up along the nylon fabric.  
  
“It’s soft,” he breathed, the quizzical trill rolling from his throat as he tilted his head to one side.  
  
Molly pushed up a little so she was properly on her knees and Avinthus could run his hands up her thighs and over her ass. He was enthralled by the feel of her tights, enough so that he kept rubbing his hands over her legs slowly. Each time drew perilously close to the already-slick folds trapped beneath layers of nylon and lace she whimpered for more, closer, _ now _ . It was torturous enough for her to let out a pathetic little mewling sound and bring her mouth towards his aural canal to beg.  
  
“Please,” she whined.  
  
Avinthus froze and turned to look down into her lust-drunk eyes, mandibles fluttering with embarrassment. She thought he had been teasing her but the stricken look on his face said otherwise. It said that despite the tension and the strain of their reunion, despite the fact that she had thrown herself on him in the back of a cab, the big lug was distracted by the very new sensation of running his hands over nylons.  
  
Molly huffed her exasperation and grabbed his two very large wrists so she could pull his hands away from her, fixing him with a cross arching of a brow.  
  
“ _ Really _ .”  
  
An apologetic thrum sounded in his throat but she still held him captive, glaring at him until he finally got the hint. The bashfulness all but vanished as he used that same trick from the bar, rolling his hands to flick hers away then snatching her wrists to hold her captive.  
  
This time he didn’t release her, just tilted his head back to look down at her hungrily, that rumbling in his chest returning to send a thrill through her core.

Molly wasn’t one to sit idly by, however. She tensed her arms, using them to lift herself up so she was at a better angle for her legs to reach Vinth’s slender waist despite their considerable height difference. Her biceps strained until she got into position and squeezed him with muscular thighs, pulling a gutteral sound from him that she hadn’t heard before. It was a little more desperate, a little less controlled.  
  
His mouth found hers again, careful not to crush her with hard plates. He coaxed her mouth open, flicked the thin tip of his tongue around her lips before tangling with hers. As their kiss deepened he lowered her back down to straddle him again, moving slowly so she could detangle her thighs from either side of him.  
  
A large, taloned hand slipped under her skirt and pressed into the heat of her sex. Vinth’s finger was hot even through her tights and panties, and he wasn’t distracted this time. Noor was he delicate when he rubbed her, stopping only to pinch her clit between his digits, mandibles flaring with infuriating male pride when she let out a ragged, pleasured cry.  
  
The rapturous sound humming in her throat fanned the lustful spark in him until it became a wildfire. He grabbed her tights in both hands, pulling them apart at the crotch so he could slip blunted fingers up past the lace of her panties. They found their way to the velvety clutch between her thighs, teasing her with light strokes before he slipped a single digit inside of her and pulled forward.  
  
The effect was immediate. Having Vinth hook a large, hot finger inside of her and pull her forwards, his eyes burning as he watched her unravel was more than she could withstand. Molly felt the pleasure swell and release from her with a wet flood and a violent trembling of legs.  
  
_ Fuck _ .  
  
It was almost humiliating how quickly she came for him, but he didn’t didn’t mind, nor did he relent. Instead he started fucking his finger into her harder until her whole body was shaking and she wore a sheen of sweat that he lavved at with his long, dextrous tongue.  
  
The way it rasped over her made it whimper as she came again, and again, blindly scrambling to paw at the tent of his cock in his pants. She could barely string a thought together, but somehow it seemed important to fuck him harder, better. She didn’t know how the fastenings in his pants worked, though, and he was _ amused _ at their little game and the fact that he was winning. He leaned his head down to press their foreheads together again, the rumbling purr that cut through her so easily making her whimper once more.

With Vinth’s head so close, a brief moment of clarity allowed her mind to supply her with a single helpful word: _ turian. _

There were easier places to reach than his pants.  
  
He pushed his finger up until his knuckle was flush against her, pressing into the sweet and sensitive pearl of her clit until she cried out once more. This time, though, she slipped her hand behind his head and found the soft spot beneath his fringe. When she pressed her finger hard into the satiny patch in his hide a dark sound rumbled in his chest, thundering in the space between them.  
  
Something flashed above her and caught her eye. When Molly looked up she saw Vinth’s mandibles were flared, his teeth gleaming in the lights that were blurring by. His throat was tight with a subvocal thrum that she felt prickling her skin. 

Outrage burned through her, then, heating her blood and taking over her hands before she could think her actions through. She grabbed Vinth’s face and wrenched it down so she could look him in the eyes. 

His pale, silvery-blue gaze was smouldering with something he wouldn’t name, something he wouldn’t speak aloud. She was sick of it. Sick of his secrets and his scheming. 

“If you have something to say,” she hissed, her face darkened by her furious mood, “Say it so I can fucking hear it.”

She felt his finger slide out of her and his hands loosely grip her hips as he strained against her hold to look away, mandibles now flush to his face. His eyes slid sideways to meet hers and a sigh rushed out of him, sagging his shoulders forward. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice was small, ill-suited to the sleek and powerful profile he created with his head turned to face the window, neon Citadel lights reflecting off his plates. A different approach, then. Molly delicately traced the length of his fringe with her fingers, coaxing the rest of his words out with a gentle touch that masked the rage tearing through her like a wildfire. 

“Every time I’ve spoken so you couldn’t hear me,” the hum of traffic almost completely washed out the low growl of his voice and Molly’s hands dropped to grip the lower ridge of his cowl, “I’ve just been saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry and…”

He faced her again, meeting her eyes briefly before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Any other time it would be an intimate gesture, but Molly knew he was using it to hide how uncomfortable he felt telling her the truth and letting her see him vulnerable. 

“And you’re breathtaking,” his voice was little more than the soft tumbling of gravel, “Soft and strange. Alien. But you’re breathtaking, and you deserve-”

She didn’t want to hear the rest. She could tell this was the speech he’d been stewing in for weeks, perfecting every word so he could disarm her and find a way back into her good graces. 

She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear him out just to forgive him or end up hating him completely. So instead she cut his words short by grabbing his face again and pressing her forehead to his, nipping at his mandibles. Her actions silenced Vinth, coaxed his tongue out to wind with hers until the heat behind their kiss had them both panting again.

Heavy, hot breaths rattled in her mouth as his muscular tongue pulled her down into passionate oblivion. It wasn’t long until she had pushed aside all thoughts of who he was and what he had done in favour of indulging in what he could do. 

His grip was tightening around her hips again, blunt talons digging in to the tender places they had bruised earlier. The bright spark of pain cut through the red fog she was losing herself in and pulled a breathy moan from her. 

Vinth seemed eager to leave his feelings in the dark as well, judging by the haste with which he pulled her down against the tent of his cock. Even through the thick fabric of his pants she could feel the delicious ridges. The memory of him was still vivid in her mind and body, enough so that she ground herself eagerly against him with a controlled circling of her hips, a motion that had his six fingers gripping her even harder to press her down into his rigid shaft.

Molly’s moan was drowned in a wash of fevered vocals. She pushed away from the turian a little so her fingers could begin tearing into the vexing toggles and clasps of his pants. When he realized what she was doing, Vinth nudged her hands aside and finished the task, his deep, blue cock springing free in seconds.

She didn’t take her time, didn’t bother with teasing or foreplay. Instead she grabbed the base of his cock firmly in hand and guided the tapered head past her panties and through her slick folds, easing it into the velvety clutch of her sex. 

There was a slight sting when she stretched around him, and he shuddered as she slowly glided over every swollen ridge. His voice melted into a smoky purr that raised the fine hairs on the back of Molly’s neck and pulled her closer to him, eager to feel his breath on her skin.

Her tongue traced a path over the vibrating lines of his neck, stopping only to allow her teeth to nip and tug at the hide and fill the cab with thrumming vocals. He bucked wildly and groaned as she pulled at the rough skin with her teeth. 

Their actions quickly dissolved into a heated tangle of limbs and tongues. Vinth held her firmly in place by her hips and fucked into her relentlessly while her fingers found her clit and toyed with it. It wasn’t long before she was coming so violently she had to grab the low rim of his cowl to steady herself, though he didn’t relent in the slightest. 

Instead, the rough pads of his fingers found either side of her clit and squeezed. Gently at first, until she was arching her back and crying out a string of utter nonsense, then harder, until the pressure hovered just on the cusp of pain. It sent bolts of pleasure crashing through her so intensely that she threw her arms around his cowl and clung to him while he fucked into her. 

“Fuck,” the low growling of his primary and subvocals crescendoed and she clenched tightly around his cock. Vinth was coming undone, hips jerking as he gasped into her hair, “So tight. I’m going to-”

A shrill tone cut through their sinful haze and sent both of them reeling to scrape together a clear thought. At some point in their desperate rutting the cab had halted to a stop. The tone was their reminder to get out and let the sky cab make its way to the next customer. 

“Fuck.”

Molly didn’t have to ask to know what Vinth was cursing about this time. They were both a mess and there was no proper way to make it out of the car and into his building without drawing attention. She had gotten so wet from their sinful exertions that his pants were soaked through. On top of that the hole he had ripped in her tights was after sending runs down through the legs.

“Fuck it,” she said, rolling off of him and righting herself as best she could. Molly’s skirt and ripped tights were also soaked, and there was a pearlescent sheen on her thighs from a mingling of her own wetness and the slick coating from Vinth’s shaft. Still, she exited the car and carried herself with the air of a woman who owned the world. What else could she do?

She heard Vinth exit behind her after hastily buckling his pants, releasing a pleasured yelp when he came up behind her and yanked her back against him. She realized after a few calming breaths that he was holding her in front of his ruined pants and very impressive erection. She could feel it pressing into her back, making her whole body glow red as they hurried to the elevator of an expensive hotel. They had to pass through a sea of both curious and knowing looks, but the moment the doors slid shut Vinth’s hand shamelessly travelled beneath her skirt so he could slide a long finger into her and pull her back against him. 

She clenched around his finger greedily, shamelessly, until she felt him lean forward. 

“Fuck it,” he growled, turning her own words into a scandalous command.

Scandal or not she followed his direction eagerly, the feel of his hot breath against her neck pebbling her nipples while she rode his finger hard in the elevator. 

When the doors slid open again they were standing properly and wearing innocent faces. A young asari maiden had been standing with a bored expression while she waited for the elevator. When the doors parted and revealed the pair, rife with the heady perfume of sex and completely bedraggled, her blue lips crept into a knowing smirk and she arched a painted brow at them. 

The pair nodded curt hellos and rushed passed the maiden, who called after them to be safe with a mischievous tone. They rounded a few corners in the empty hall until Vinth stopped and tapped his omni against the sensor of one of the doors, which rushed open with a silky sigh.

He guided her inside and had her skirt up before the doors closed again. Molly was clawing desperately at his pants, too. She tugged them open without help this time, grabbing and squeezing his cock until he snarled and buried his face in the crook of her neck to lav his tongue along the hollow there. 

Molly’s hands pumped the length of him, every twitch of his shaft in her small palms bringing a smug sense of satisfaction to life in the smirk she wore. She kept at it until he fisted a handful of her hair and tugged, steering her back against the wall of the hotel room and leaning his hips in until she was pinned in place. 

She glanced up into Vinth’s eyes when he wrapped his large fingers around her wrists and plucked her hands away from him. There was a heat blazing in his silver-blue glare, one that made her whimper, needy and pathetic from how intensely her body yearned for him. 

His mandibles flared open and through rows of sharp teeth Molly watched the long cord of his tongue flex while he spoke. It made her shiver.

“Take off your shirt.”

His voice was low and soft as smoke, tickling her until she followed her instructions as though under a spell. Their eyes stayed firmly locked together when she unfastened the heavy gold collar of her top and pulled it away from her neck before grasping the hem to pull it over her head. Her bra came next, and both were discarded unceremoniously.

With her chest bared for Avinthus his eyes finally lowered to wander over the swells and curves of her body. He took his time as though he was committing every detail to memory. Realization poured down Molly’s neck like cold water as she watched him: he was trying to savour this, trying to etch it into his memory as though it was the last time they would ever see each other. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she wanted it to be.

Vinth traced the graceful lines of Molly’s collarbone and her neck with a knuckle, then tilted her chin back and exposed her neck. She shivered when she felt the sharp tips of his teeth grazing along the thin flesh there, warmth blooming between her legs when he began to gingerly nip with teeth and plates. Just like that her thoughts faded away once more, replaced by heavy desire.

“Hands against the wall,” he whispered, a growling purr rumbling in his chest like thunder. 

She did exactly as he asked and Vinth fell to his knees. She watched him grab a thigh and lift one of her legs up to push it against the wall, pulling her panties aside to expose her glistening sex. 

Avinthus knelt before her as though he were in supplication, frozen until she swept her fingernails over his crest. Whatever thought was holding him transfixed snapped. He pressed his face against her muscular thigh, nipping the soft skin until he left a trail of blossoming red marks behind him. Every time his teeth caught her flesh she felt a thrill mounting in her core, soaking her velvety entrance until she could feel it running down the leg still planted firmly on the floor.

When his tongue finally slipped into her it chased every errant thought from Molly’s mind and she felt herself melt back into the wall with a moan. 

Christ, but the things a turian tongue was capable of!

The clever blue muscle snaked into her, exploring every warm nook with measured, precise movements. She knew he was taking his time to read her, to listen and log every whimper, every cry that escaped her lips. He wanted to know how to make her come undone and he was doing a mighty fine job of it.

Once Avinthus was done taking mental notes he buried his tongue so deep in her that she felt the sting of his teeth pricking into her slick folds. Her legs started to quake so violently she feared she might fall. Before she could, he pushed the thigh he was holding into the wall to keep her steady.

When she was balanced again he withdrew his tongue, the pointed tip finding that sweet little pearl of nerves and flicking once, twice. By the third time she felt herself hurtling over the edge of a ruinous climax that snared her body within the delicious jaws of sin. 

And still it wasn’t enough to sate her. 

Before his face had even left her Molly’s fingers scraped their way beneath Vinth’s crest and gently teased the satiny patch with a few skirting touches. She waited until he pulled his face and his sharp, sharp teeth away from her before roughly pressing her finger into such a sensitive spot. The snarl her touch elicited lapped at the juncture of her thighs, warmth creeping through her anew. 

“Fuck me.”  
  
She didn’t have to say it again. Vinth grasped both of her thighs and rose to his feet, bowing down so his forehead pressed against hers while he teased her entrance. There was a moment when her heart faltered, when time slowed and they shared the air between them, breathing in sync before he wrenched his face away and buried it into her shoulder. Molly held her breath and had to will away the treacherous feelings stirring around the bitter roots in her heart.  
  
The moment shattered and the held breath rushed free of Molly’s lips when Vinth slid into her once more, this time more easily than the last. She was tender and sensitive now, so much so that the ridges of his shaft made her body shiver ceaselessly. Her filled her completely, letting her take the entirety of his length and pressing it deep into her without moving.  
  
She waited for more, waited for him to withdraw and fuck into her again, but he held firm. She thought there was something wrong until she pulled back and saw him watching her, his eyes foggy with carnal hunger.  
  
“Tell me what you want.”  
  
That voice of his was more intoxicating than any drink. The sound of it alone had her clenching his cock tight enough for his breath to catch. He wasn’t the only one who could take control.  
  
Molly gripped his cowl to brace herself and circled her hips with the base of his cock flush to her sex. She reeled as every hot inch of him moved deep in her, the only thing holding her steady was the smug satisfaction of watching Vinth’s eyelids and mandibles flutter wildly. His teeth snapped around a heavy, drumming purr that vibrated through them both.  
  
_ Fuck _ .  
  
She could even feel the rumbling down in his shaft, and that was all it took for her to fall apart again. She relented, letting him brace her hips and start fucking her again. Her breathing came ragged and stuttered from the motions they moved through. All she could do was hold fast to the low rim of Vinth’s cowl as he grunted and ground into her.  
  
His movements were measured at first, until he, too, became lost in ecstasy and began to tremble at the edge of sweet oblivion.  
  
Molly couldn’t help losing herself in all of it. There was an exquisite thrill to be found in his hands. She knew it was wrong, knew that his touch set her ablaze because he could read her like a book and knew exactly how to play her. Still, she had never enjoyed sleeping with anyone as much as she enjoyed this.  
  
She thought, even as she clenched around his ridged cock and gasped out his name, that it might only feel this good because she had gone so long without. Fucking Avinthus Flos was like eating a first meal after days without food.

Or at least that was what she told herself as her nails bit into the rough hide of his neck, exhilaration tearing through her with a final, quaking orgasm. His name fell from her lips in one final, frenzied cry. The sound of it pulled a low moan singing with subharmonics from Avinthus. She couldn’t decipher them or bring herself to care as electric currents of pleasure arced through her mercilessly, tingling at every extremity while he ground out three more erratic thrusts, mandibles stuttering.  
  
Warmth swelled through her once more, though this time it was from Vinth spilling ropes of hot seed while his legs shook beneath him.  
  
They remained where they were for long moments afterwards, Molly relishing in the cool press of the wall against her back while Vinth stayed still as a statue, waiting for his mind to clear enough to trust himself to walk. The moment he felt steady on his feet he gripped her ass tight to make sure he wouldn’t drop her and took a few long, quick strides to the bed.  
  
She felt his cock, now limp and spent within her, slowly make its retreat behind his plates as he lowered them both carefully onto the mattress. It was plush and firm all at once, and the sheets had the feel of wealth. They were firmer, sturdier than human-made sheets, but even still she could tell they were made for the kind of people used to spending credits without blinking.

In the afterglow she found herself unable to drum up any anger or hurt that he had caused her. Instead she joined him in peeling off their remaining layers before curling into him. Molly’s fingers crept up to press lightly against Vinth’s throat in order to feel the rumble of his low purring, luxuriating in the warmth he radiated and the sweet sting left behind from their joining. Vinth was eager to take advantage of her closeness, pulling her tight to one side of his keel and carefully draping a long, spurred leg over hers to trap her further against him.  
  
Before reality had the chance to come crashing down on them, Molly and Avinthus fell asleep completely wrapped up in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent the last few days trapped inside due to serious snowstorms that have caused a state of emergency, hence the quick updates. Apologies in advance if that progress dies off.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avinthus ruminates until he and Molly have a much-needed talk. Things are still rocky but they’re finally looking up. 
> 
> Apologies for the delay. This is my third time writing the chapter. I just couldn’t get Vinth to talk to me so I spent most of my time drawing these idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any formatting issues. Getting used to a new writing set-up!

The cool touch of cycled air swept through Avinthus’ hotel room, gently rousing him from his sleep. It was quiet but for the sound of traffic weaving through the upper reaches of Zakera ward outside his window and the soft, whispering breaths of a sleeping human wrapped up in his arms. 

_Molly._

Gently, so as not to wake her, he pulled her against his chest and ran his fingers up the smooth back of her neck until they were buried in her hair. The smell of her shampoo was heavy in the room, mingling with a heady floral scent he assumed to be some sort of perfume. It felt surreal to have her sleeping in his arms in the strange twilight between cycles, as though nothing had happened between them.

Molly was curled into his chest, her tiny hands gripping the low ridge of his cowl as she nuzzled into his fractured carapace. It was such a contrast to the indomitable spirit she normally channeled: her fire left her whenever she slept, revealing brief glimpses into the softer side she kept so heavily guarded. In moments like these he felt himself getting pulled deep into treacherous waters, his breath lost in waves of auburn hair and tattooed skin.

He wanted her more than he was equipped to handle. Molly was a vast ocean he was clueless to navigate and he’d been caught in the riptide with no land in sight or stars to guide him home. The strange alien he’d involved himself with had crashed into his heart violently, teaching him his first lesson in what it meant to want something so badly it _hurt_. After their visit to Len’s he knew that involving himself with her meant walking into a mess of his own making, but he hadn’t been prepared for how suddenly or how violently he’d fall for her.

Avinthus should have pulled away when he realized that his fascination with her and the fearless, passionate way she lived was becoming something more. _Spirits_, he should have been _honest_ with her, but he had been lost in grief and fury when they met. Good sense was far gone at that point in his life and he was powerless to resist her pull. When she had finally dragged him back to her apartment it was a point of no return that he was eager to throw himself into.

Tucking his head forward, he nuzzled into Molly’s richly scented hair and took a deep breath. He wanted to brand every detail into his memory before she woke, before the spell was broken and their tenuous peace was burned away by her fury. Her impulsive invitation had only delayed their inevitable conversation, the one he knew would crush the frail _them_ they had started building months ago. The rift he had torn between them would be impossible to mend with words, and they certainly couldn’t fuck their way through it. 

No matter what he felt or how much regret he harboured, Avinthus _had_ used and endangered her. He betrayed her wickedly, rendering him unworthy of the forgiveness he prayed for, so he began preparing himself for the worst the moment he laid eyes on her at _Dance_.

Steeling himself wasn’t enough to stop him from wanting to push her away, from wanting her to vanish instead of subjecting himself to her ruthless ire. The look in her eyes when she found him at the bar was worse than the searing pain of Briggs’ knife burning into his hide. The contempt raging inside of her was etched into the crease of her knotted brows and the spark in her grey eyes, turning his stomach until he worried he might actually be sick.

That was the moment he realized no amount of time could have prepared him for the ache her hatred carved into him. He tried to push her away, to leave them with a clean break, but he was completely at her mercy. Avinthus eagerly followed her out of _Dance_, ravenous for a few more seconds at her side in spite of the sick feeling that sat heavy in his gut. 

He never would have guessed that Molly would let him indulge himself in her strange, human kiss again. Nor would he have guessed she’d let him put his hands on her, but _spirits_ the way she came undone for him had Avinthus lost in her all over again. He had never known anything to feel so exquisite as Molly’s tight, wet heat wrapped around his cock. The give of her supple flesh beneath his talons and the way she whimpered for just a little more when he touched her...

_Fuck_.

His plates were loosening just thinking about it, despite his best efforts to train his body into behaving for him. He didn’t want to wake her up by prodding his raging hard-on into her, not when everything between them was so uncertain. 

Heaving a sigh, Vinth steered his thoughts away from the sumptuous memories of their time spent tangled up in each other. Instead he tried to puzzle out what her time at _Dance_ had meant for her. It was clear enough that she was celebrating the end of her studies: the very diverse group of drunken, revelrous characters who laughed through their exhaustion and relief made that obvious enough.

Avinthus would have been lying if he said he hadn’t worried about her future during their time apart. His actions had not only gotten her hurt, they robbed her of her only source of income during the most demanding part of her program. He had been torn between respecting her wish to keep her distance and sending her as many credits as he could get away with, ultimately deciding that she would turn down his offer and view him less than favourably if he tried to make up for what he had done by throwing money at her. 

After months of fretting over it, over _her_, seeing Molly looking so radiant at _Dance_ had been a balm for his frayed nerves. The lack of bags under her eyes and the sheer, unbridled joy in her movements had granted him his first moment of happiness since he’d last held her in his arms. It had flooded him with a relief so overpowering that his breath caught in his throat and made it impossible to keep his eyes off of her. With her smile luminous beneath the neon lights and her hair streaming around her like a victory banner, she was just as captivating as she had been wrapped up in rivers of silk at _Red Nova_. 

Within his arms, Molly stirred and sighed, jolting him out of her revery by pushing her leg between his thighs so she was nestling in tightly against him. It was a wonder the drumming of his heart hadn’t already woken her. 

Before he could stop himself, Avinthus felt a low purr rumble deep in his chest. His eyes snapped open and he glanced at Molly’s peaceful face to catch her thin eyelids flutter. He wasn’t ready for her to wake up, not yet. When she woke she would walk out of his life again and more than anything he wasn’t ready to face the void she would leave in him once she was gone. 

He knew that it was too much too quick to feel as strongly as he did for her, but the tiny spitfire that was Molly Thorne had sparked a change in him that was impossible to halt. He wasn’t just smitten with her, he admired her the same way he had admired the war heroes from his parents’ stories when he was a boy. She was powerful in a way he didn’t know a person could be, and he knew there was still so much more he could learn from her. 

A quiet keen slipped loose and Avinthus cursed himself as he felt Molly stirring in his arms. She took a deep breath and stilled, coming out of her sleep quietly, carefully. She must have pieced together where she was and what had happened between them the moment she woke, judging by how quickly she’d tensed up. 

Neither of them said anything, the seconds stretching out between them rife with tension and discomfort. It took far longer than Vinth was comfortable with for him to realize that he had effectively trapped Molly, his legs and arms a cage that pressed her against his keel.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, releasing her and inching backwards a little awkwardly to give her some space. A nervous trill echoed his words while he watched Molly curl up to hide her naked body from him as best she could, reaching blindly behind herself for something to cover up with. 

She fisted the heavy comforter and pulled it up over herself, instantly relaxing once she was covered. It was only after she took a breath, visibly collecting her thoughts, that she finally looked up at him. 

Avinthus had prepared himself to face wrathful anger and disgust, to see a hatred so pure it could be holy, but the truth of what he saw in Molly’s eyes made his blood run cold. 

She looked diminished, her eyes wet with tears and her features drawn into fragile uncertainty. The thick curtain of lashes that curled over her lids glistened wetly as well, and the way she pulled the blanket tightly around herself made his heart ache. She was using it to _shield_ herself from him. 

_What have I done? _

He should have walked away from her instead of taking her back to his hotel room and fucking her. She deserved better than whatever misery she was feeling now, naked and alone but for the pining villain in her story. 

“Moll, I’m-”

“Sorry,” she cut him off sharply, her voice steady and clear despite the quiver in her bottom lip, “I know you are. You’ve said it enough.”

Molly began to steady herself, her breath coming measured and even as she trained her expression into an inscrutable deadpan. He didn’t know what she wanted to hear and once more imagined himself lost at sea, his lungs filled with the scent of her shampoo in place of water. Turians weren’t made for swimming and Avinthus Flos was no exception to that rule.

Still, a horrible little seed of hope was splitting open and sending its roots creeping through the ache in his chest. Molly would have left if she wanted to be rid of him, wouldn’t she? Drumming up his courage, Avinthus reached his hand slowly towards her, giving her plenty of time to pull away or refuse him. 

He couldn’t help the pathetic keen that swelled from his throat when she allowed him to place his hand upon her cheek. Her face looked so tiny within the frame of his large fingers, and even her tempestuous spirit wasn’t enough to hide just how delicate she was in comparison to a plated turian. The primal compulsion to protect her and keep her safe was hammering within his heart, berating him for the scars she now bore because of him. 

He had to do better. He _would_ do better, for as long as she allowed him to. 

“I haven’t,” he softly replied, once more breaking the silence, “I don’t think I can. I really fucked up, Moll, and the worse it got the harder it was to dig out of it.”

Cool, grey eyes glanced sideways at his scarred fingers before fixing upon him once more, sending a chill through his plates. Not one to dance around an issue, Molly pressed him with a single word.

“Why?”

Countless lame excuses twitched upon his tongue, urging him to placate her with palatable half-truths. He knew he could make a convincing show, and the idea of preserving some of his image in her eyes was seductive. 

“I needed a reason to hang around without being too suspicious,” he watched as the truth twisted her face into an awful, fleshy scowl, “Which I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. But Moll, I didn’t...”

_Spirits_, how was he supposed to make sense of it for her when he was still struggling with it himself?

Molly’s voice cut through his thoughts with a silvery timbre that pierced his heart, “Your brother was killed, wasn’t he?” she asked, not unkindly. 

Avinthus thrummed with an ugly keening that could rival a murder of howling _cruora_. Before he could piece himself together enough to answer her question, Molly let one of her small hands slip free of her blanket armour and placed it over his. She squeezed the fingers that still cradled her face, her scowl fading into a tight frown. She was still defensive, but this was far better than the bald hurt she wore mere moments ago. 

“Veritas,” he informed her, voice tight from the strain of his thrumming subvocals, “You would have liked him. He was like you, except he wanted to move to the Citadel to dance and fought my parents over it his whole life. They didn’t approve and hated that he wouldn’t just fall in line. It took years, but we managed to convince them not to disown him so long as he completed his mandatory service. He was so close, Moll. He was months away and then he was killed.”

He didn’t realize he had pulled his hand away from Molly until he saw the frayed seams of the bed cover between his blunted talons. She had moved her gaze away to watch him worry the fabric between his fingers, her expression inscrutable once more. There was a slight crease between her brows when she looked back at him, quietly urging him to continue. He knew she wasn’t looking to help him through his grief; she was trying to hear his side of things from start to finish in order to measure his words and decide whether or not she was going to cast him out of her life. 

Avinthus drew a deep breath and organized his thoughts before continuing, staring at the fabric coming undone between his fingers in lieu of facing Molly’s scrutiny. He pinched his mandibles to his face and strained to keep his subvocals under control; Molly could pick up on some of them, but she was largely deaf to his most eloquent form of speech. If he wanted her to understand his side of things he was going to have to speak to her in a language her translator could make sense of. 

“Everything happened so quickly when he died,” his said quietly, his raw nerves squeezing his voice until it was hoarse, “He was a good kid and I was pissed off. He died because of some prototype weapons, not a cause or a purpose he actually gave a shit about. Moll, he died over a gift meant to keep the Council sweet on the Hierarchy, some unfinished prototypes for spectre weapons. He died over an empty gesture - a political fucking flex.”

He made a valiant effort to resist the mounting rage in his chest, but the burn of his anger was a welcome heat in the chill between himself and Molly. It seared beneath his hide, flicking his mandibles in agitated stutters. 

“He spent his entire life falling in line because he loved our parents and didn’t want to walk out on them,” the words were practically falling out of him now, boiling over with his heated mood, “He wanted them to come to peace with who he was and after years of enduring a life he hated he was snuffed out before he had a chance to really live.”

Split threads and shredded fibres were falling from between Vinth’s fingers into the silken fan of auburn hair that peaked out of the comforter Molly had pulled over herself. He jerked his hand away from the ruined cloth and pushed himself up to burn away some of the restlessness that was taking hold. Molly remained silent, her gaze trained on his back when he turned to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t have to see her to know she was watching him intently. 

“I had to do something,” his talons scraped against the tiled floor when he swung his legs down off of the bed to bounce them anxiously as the memories following Veri’s death came rushing back, “My parents have total faith in the Hierarchy so they just went through the motions and grieved him normally, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t just see his spirit off before the assholes responsible were brought to justice.

“My family name has some pull. The weapons showed up again on the Citadel with some of Briggs’ people, so I managed to team myself up with C-Sec to see if I could find some answers. There was a leak in the Hierarchy, that was how the ship Veri was stationed on got tagged. I wanted to help find the leak, expose whoever it was and see the full might of the Hierarchy crush them into the dirt. C-Sec didn’t get anywhere, though, and they gave up before the investigation took off. I think Briggs had guys on the inside keeping him safe, so I teamed up with Filana and went rogue.

“Lana had good tech and they hate seeing thugs getting away with murder as much as I do. They lost someone, too, so they helped me. A little bit anyhow.”

Molly remained quiet and Avinthus stilled his jostling legs long enough to look back over his shoulder at her. Her deadpan dropped momentarily when their eyes met and he knew it was because he was looking at her with the same intensity he had when they first started getting to know each other. He tried to calm down enough to soften his expression but no matter how deep a breath he drew his chest was still burning. He was still _angry_. 

“I want you to know, Moll,” he growled, “That I wanted to kill everyone at _Red Nova_ when I first walked in there. I was a fucking mess and I’m not proud of it, but I was there for Veri and I was mad. Everyone there was an enemy to me at first and I needed a way in. It was going to be one of the asari, but you... Shit.”

Wrenching his gaze away from her again, Avinthus bowed forwards and buried his face in his hands. He was getting too worked up and running his mouth. Everything he had planned on saying was rushing out in a jumbled mess.

“You were like him,” the words fell out of him, careful planning be damned, “You looked so alive and determined that going to you just felt right. If all I wanted was a cover I never would have tried talking to you. I was a state, trying to tear down Briggs, trying to get to know you, trying to keep myself together. I kept telling myself I wouldn’t let you get hurt even when everything started going to shit. 

“I was an arrogant idiot, Moll. Figured being a good soldier meant I could be a good spy. I didn’t realize I was in over my head until Leore got hurt.”

Avinthus started bouncing one of his legs again, keening subvocals swelling beneath his agitated growl. He was cursing his own name over and over until a pressure on his hip spur made him jump and turn around with a snarl. When he spotted Molly shrinking away from him in fear, the hand that had touched his hip trembling violently, he felt all of the hot air rush out of him in a heavy sigh. 

_You really are a pathetic mess, Flos. _

“I’m sorry,” he keened, raking a hand over his crest, “I-”

“No,” Molly pulled the ruined blanket tight around her shoulders and sat up, her neat little brows furrowed together tightly, “I should have known better.”

It took him a moment, but Vinth quickly realized that Molly was pitying him. He turned his back to her again and stared hard at the tiled floor, trying desperately to ignore the burn of her gaze on him. He knew she was staring at him, eyes full of pity, and he hated it. It wasn’t just that he didn’t deserve it - he hated that Briggs had actually managed to get to him, to wear him down and break enough of his confidence that even Molly’s light touch had set him off. 

Another pregnant quiet grew between them, swollen with every unspoken word that still held them apart. Avinthus sagged forward and rested his face in his hands. It felt like all the weight of Menae was sitting on his back, crushing him until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t realize he was actually holding his breath until Molly’s clear voice cut through the din of his thoughts once more, reminding him to inhale. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Flos?”

She sounded so small, so frail. It cut him in ways he couldn’t measure because he knew the truth would hurt her. But how could he lie to her after everything he had done?

His subvocals stilled, leaving the room silent but for the endless flow of traffic outside his window. They were both holding their breath and he couldn’t help thinking that the hum of the sky cars outside was the flatline tone for his relationship with Molly. 

“I didn’t think I could trust you.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath, felt her shift where she sat in the bed. The scent of salty tears filled the room and Avinthus found himself wondering what sort of expression Molly was wearing. Was she hurt? Angry?

He couldn’t bring himself to look, but the words were flowing out of him once more. 

“I couldn’t trust you not to go to Briggs to protect yourself and the others.”

It was the very thing he admired most about her: she was willing to do whatever it took to secure her future. He had wanted to tell her the truth about why he was on the Citadel time and again but a part of him had always wondered if she would report to Briggs. If she would stop at nothing to secure the safety of the _Nova_ staff and her income during the final stretch of her schooling, what could possibly make him the exception to the rule?

He finally turned when he felt the mattress shifting and watched Molly’s naked back as she got off of the bed to start hunting for her clothes. She kept her head bowed so her face remained hidden behind the long, voluminous curtain of her hair. She couldn’t hide the scent, though, nor the splash of her tears staining the grey tiles of the hotel room floor. 

Avinthus’ voice was smothered beneath the weight of his guilt. He watched on in silence as Molly dressed herself and hauled on her shoes, choosing to leave behind the ruined scraps of whatever she had worn on her legs the night before. He briefly recalled the softness of the black fabric as he watched her rush towards the door. 

Still his voice failed him. 

A large, scarred hand reached for the retreating figure of the strange alien he cared for so deeply. He wanted to call out to her, beg her not to leave, but instead he sat frozen in place as she paused in front of the door. 

“I don’t want to see you again.”

And then she was gone; out of the door and out of his life, likely for good this time. Avinthus finally pushed himself off of the bed and found himself following the tear-splattered tiles towards the exit, breathing in the salted perfume of strawberry-basil shampoo and flowers. 

She was leaving thinking that he didn’t trust her, that her safety and the safety of the people she cared about hadn’t been worth taking a chance on her and telling her the full truth. _Spirits_, was he _trying_ to drive her away from him?

He felt like he had been struck by lightning. Vinth jumped to action, scrambling to find his clothes and dress himself. By the time he’d hauled on his pants and shirt (which he realized was inside-out but didn’t care to waste time fixing or fastening) he was out the door, running barefoot towards the elevator with his scarred torso fully exposed.

Avinthus had never been a spiritual person. He practiced the same religious traditions his parents had out of habit, but had never been moved to believe in the spirits as deeply as he had during his chase. He rounded the corner at the end of the hall just in time to catch the elevator that would have taken Molly out of his reach, his talons rending trenches into the plush carpet during his mad dash. 

His hand shot out to catch the door just in time and he tumbled in after her, slamming the emergency stop once it began to glide its way down towards the lobby. Molly still had her arms wrapped tightly around herself when she stared up at him, her blotchy face wet with tears and her brows drawn in miserable confusion. 

“The hell do you want now, Flos? I’m done-“

“I’m not,” he cut her off, hands fussing with the exposed seams of his open shirt, “I’m not done, Moll. I was wrong not to trust you, I was wrong to keep you in the dark, I was wrong about everything I’ve done on this fucking station except _you_. I can’t take it back but _spirits_ I want to make it right. If that means walking away I will, but not without fighting to fix things first.”

She had pulled her hair out of its tie on her walk to the elevator. It fell down around her shoulders sleek and straight but for the mess of tangles she was nervously coaxing out with her tiny fingers. He watched her war with her thoughts, staring everywhere in the elevator but at him. 

The sudden boldness that had overtaken him urged Avinthus forward once more. He stepped towards Molly, reaching a hand out to gently cup her face and swipe away her tears with the rough pad of his thumb. She tensed under his touch and tried to shrink away until her back connected with the cool, brushed steel of the elevator. 

His gaze traced the taut lines of her neck towards the curve of her jaw and narrowed in on her trembling bottom lip. He wanted to press his plated mouth against hers in one of her strange, human kisses. He wanted hold her and sink into her familiar scent, but he could see the line drawn between them. Now was not the time to stomp on it.

Instead he let his hand slide from her cheek down to her tiny chin, tilting her head up until she finally looked him in the eyes. He could see the frayed nerves and fear in the harsh lines of her frown, but there was an unexpected tenderness there as well. 

Avinthus felt his heart swell. Before he could stop himself he crooked a mandible at her in a soft little grin. 

“I’m not ready to give up,” he whispered over the purr rumbling in his chest.

His eyes never left hers. He watched as the tears began to well up once more, spilling over to slide down her cheeks and leave dark lines in the remnants of her makeup. Molly’s small hands pushed him away from her so she could slip past him and release the emergency stop. The elevator began its descent once more, whirring to life with a gentle hum. 

“I’m not ready to try.”

He turned to face her back, catching the blurred lines of her reflection in the steel doors. Avinthus could feel his heart sinking into his gut when the elevator slowed to a halt, the doors opening with a quiet _hiss_. 

Molly lingered for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder to flash him a feeble grin of her own.

“Just give me some time, snowball.”

She disappeared into the empty lobby, leaving him to stand alone in the elevator with the ghost of her perfume as the doors slid closed again. Molly hadn’t called him snowball since he left her apartment months ago, and for the first time since that day the small hope he had been fighting finally began to thrive. 


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to sort through her feelings about Avinthus amidst time spent with her family and good food. 
> 
> Also in this chapter: Rivix proves to be the Overbearing Mother Hen friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive shout out to Some_Writer for being a fantastic beta. If you’re going to do yourself one favour today, make it reading their work. Trust me on that one.

A strange atmosphere took hold of the Citadel in the quiet hours between cycles. It was true that there were many different rhythms and beats to life on the Prothean metropolis, but the varied species that populated the station were creatures of habit. Routines and schedules were a must, so even lacking proper days and nights they all naturally fell into neat cycles that lined up for utmost convenience. 

After living for years as a dancer in a seedy club, Molly had gotten used to the quiet in-between, the strange twilight when the vibrant city life dimmed just a little. It was soothing to watch the lazy flow of traffic from the window of her taxi, forehead pressed against the cool glass in hopes that the slight vibration from the air rushing by would numb the headache that pushed against the backs of her eyes with hot, heavy fists. 

She was beginning to think there was something fundamentally wrong with her, some broken part that she desperately needed to fix. Why else would she have disappeared into Vinth’s Zakera hotel room, let him fuck her, let herself get swept up in him again? It was self sabotage at its finest, and here she was in tatters again, hugging herself in the back of a sky car with raw, chafed thighs and a face wet with tears. 

Avinthus Flos was a son of a bitch, a liar and a prick without a heart. She had been telling herself exactly that for months to ease the pain of his betrayal, to fill the void left behind without him in her day to day life. Hating him made it easier, keeping her distance made it easier, and seeing him again completely ripped apart all of her carefully laid plans for moving on. 

How could she move on when beneath the heavy layers of hurt she actually felt _ happy _ with how things had gone? Watching that idiot snowball run to catch her elevator, just to make a last ditch effort at keeping her in his life… it put a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t chase away with ugly internal lies. 

Small, white-knuckled fingers squeezed her arms tighter as the sky car slipped neatly into another lane, making its way back to Bachjret. The world outside was an abstract wash of gleaming metal jutting up through blurred neons, yet she still managed to notice the wide, round dome of _ Dance _ where patrons were still dancing away. Bigger clubs like that never really closed apart from the occasional maintenance day, a testament to the business-driven beast that was the Citadel. 

What she would give for a taste of sunlight, sea, and wind. Molly wanted nothing more than to trade the cycled air and harsh lights of her new home for the raw wilderness of her little rock back on Earth. Newfoundland was an unpolished gem full of unpolished people who thrived in brutal, unpredictable weather. They were defined by it and she was no exception.

Now more than ever she felt like she needed the familiar comfort of roaring winds and rough seas. She needed to stand over the jagged shores of Caplin Cove, screaming into a gale that would rush her secrets out to the choppy waves where no one could ever hear them. 

_Snowball_ _would probably be able to hear it if he were there. _

Ah yes, she was back to Snowball again. That had been unexpected, but the same impulsive energy that had driven her to kiss him and snatch his hand when they left her apartment together months ago had come back to her with a vengeance the night before. The most unsettling part of it all was how _ right _ it felt. No matter what she coached herself to believe in, she knew deep down that he was not, in fact, a bad person. She knew that she still wanted him. 

Avinthus had been a stupid, emotional person who had made very bad decisions and life was too messy to be tucked into neat little black and white boxes. It was hard to accept that he wasn’t a villain, it was harder trying to see past what he had done, but she couldn’t deny the very demanding and needy part of her that _ wanted _ to. 

Which was precisely why Molly felt like she was defective. That, and the fact that she was a cold bitch who scared off her classmates and coworkers for years. Hell, she was a career-driven woman so tenacious that she couldn’t be trusted not to hand Vinth over to _ Briggs _ of all people, lest it hurt her plans for the future. 

That part had cut her deep. How could the big, dumb lug have ever believed her to be capable of throwing him to the wolves? If he had told her the truth she would have done everything in her power to find a way out of that mess for all of them.

_ Would you though? _

A fresh well of tears began spilling over, blurring Molly’s vision and streaking her makeup with new runs of mascara. She wasn’t as confident in her nobility as she wished she was. After so much time spent denying her feelings for Avinthus and convincing herself that he was just some stranger she couldn’t trust, how could she be sure she _ wouldn’t _ have betrayed him?

Molly blinked away her tears and looked down at her wrist, twisting it back to wake her omnitool. In the back of her taxi, which was nearing the bowels of Bachjret’s seedy lower wards, she swept through the screen with a determined scowl set upon her tear-soaked lips. 

_ Molly: Our grades will be out in a week. I have free time before I graduate. After that I start the new job. Meet up? _

She glared at the screen, hitting send before she could regret it. Molly was no good at feeling vulnerable, but she was worse at being frail and indecisive. 

_ Avinthus: Name a time and place. I’m there. When do you graduate? _

His answer was almost immediate, pinging her omni mere moments after she reached out to him. She wondered what he was doing, if he was tidying his hotel room or pacing, if he was still half-dressed or if he had stripped down again, baring his scarred body-

Shaking her head to cut _ that _ train of thought short, Molly tapped away once more.

_Molly: A week and a day. If I pass. _

_ Avinthus: Funny. Moll? _

Messaging him had been a mistake. What could he possibly have to say? Did he regret their night together? Was he about to tell her he was leaving the Citadel soon? She had no idea why he was still here. Sighing through clenched teeth, Molly’s small fingers danced through a quick reply, her heart thundering. 

_ Molly: I’m listening. _

_ Avinthus: Thanks. For everything. I’ve missed you. _

What happened next was a secret Molly would take to her grave: in spite of the pit in her stomach and the tears in her eyes, her lips cracked into a goofy and utterly vapid grin. It was enough to have her scrunch up in the worn leather seats of the sky cab and kick at the dash like a petulant child, cursing herself for being a simpering, smitten fool. 

_ Stupid turian with his stupid fucking face. _

It was the one part of him left mercifully intact. She hadn’t missed the painful new scars that lined the sensitive hide along his waist. Briggs’ handiwork was easy enough to identify - shattered plates, burned flesh, and the raw nerves that set him off with a single unexpected touch. 

Vinth had paid enough for his actions. She might not accept him back into her good graces right away, at least not fully, but she was through with treating him like a monster. And she was ready to see him again, to get to know who he really was and what had happened during their time apart. 

When she finally wobbled out of the taxi, muscles sore and thighs raw from her late night romp with Avinthus, Molly stood before her apartment and deeply inhaled the stale, cool air of Bachjret. There was change on the wind, or at least on the edge of the filtered air cycling through the station’s numerous vents.

Soon enough she would graduate and start her new job alongside some of the most high profile surgeons in Citadel space. That was a big challenge to face alone, something which had seemed daunting mere months ago. Now, with her new network of friends and the healing relationship between her and that stupid snowball, she was finally eager to get started. 

The thought left Molly invigorated in spite of her exhaustion and the state she was in. Enough so that she stumbled through the rest of her journey towards her shoebox apartment chewing her lips to keep them from breaking into a big, foolish grin again. 

The prospect of uninterrupted sleep was her siren song, pulling her along an invisible thread towards her apartment until she was standing perplexed before her door, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast smacking her full in the face. 

_ The hell? _

The only explanation was that her parents were in her apartment cooking, but what the hell could have compelled them to break into her apartment this early in her cycle? Scrunching her brows together, Molly drew up her wrist and glared at it, flicking the omnitool screen awake. At some point the night before she had muted all comms that came through to it. If they had messaged her, she would have missed it. Vinth’s messages had only made it through because she contacted him first and left their conversation open. 

_ Shit. _

When she switched off silent mode, Molly’s omni came to life with a series of haptic taps and shrill pings. 

“Fuck!”

She smacked at her wrist desperately, trying to silence the electronic raucous to avoid waking up her entire floor. Unfortunately, in those brief seconds of panic she had completely forgotten the state she was in and the fact that her parents were on the other side of her apartment door.

A quiet _ hiss _ sparked her realization far too late and before she could come up with an excuse for the way she looked, she was staring into her father’s warm eyes with her mouth hanging slack.

_ Ah shit, shit! _

Lucas’ crinkled laugh lines quickly gave way, brows furrowing in concern as he looked her up and down. Molly was suddenly too aware of her short skirt, the missing tights, the thighs that had been rubbed raw and the wild tangle of hair that hung over her shoulders like a bundle of cod netting. Not to mention the obvious tear-streaks in the ruins of her makeup.

_ Ah fuck. _

Her father didn’t miss a single detail. She imagined she could take an educated guess at what he was thinking, judging by the flush of red creeping up his neck towards his ears. He was leaning hard into his protector role in that moment, and if she didn’t calm him down quickly he’d be steaming for hours. 

When Lucas opened his mouth to speak, Molly shook her hands vigorously in front of her, croaking out a tired, “No, no, don’t go there!”

He stepped back, his silver-speckled brows and grey eyes wide with surprise at her flailing hands. 

“Nothing bad happened,” she assured him, the hammering of her heart finally calming when she saw the tension leave his shoulders, “I swear, it wasn’t anything bad. I met up with a friend and, uh, well...”

_ Bingo _. 

The mild flush that had crept up her father’s neck intensified and he spun around on his heel, eager to run away from _ that _ mental image and back to his wife. When she stepped inside, Molly saw her mother looking over her shoulder, beaming a fox’s grin at her. 

“I hope you understand, my darling little bumblebee,” Heather’s voice was much too sweet to be trusted, “That you’ll be teased mercilessly all morning.”

Perhaps not, though. When Molly kicked out of her heels and padded over the cool floor towards her washroom, swiping at the smears of mascara with the backs of her hands, she felt her mother’s gaze following her. Heather made a thoughtful humming sound before the bathroom door closed behind her bedraggled daughter, a clear indication that she was trying to fit the pieces together.

All of a sudden Molly regretted telling her parents all about Vinth’s role in what happened at _ Nova _. She had been so sure that she’d never let him back in her life when she had that it didn’t seem at all troublesome to share the full story with them. Now, Molly clenched her jaw and stripped off her layers before twisting the nozzle for her shower, pondering over how her parents would take it if they found out she was back on speaking terms with the guy who almost got her killed. She cursed and let the water run until it was steaming, then hopped inside to scrub herself clean. 

The water sluiced over her, burning away the grime and sweat and scouring her clean with the aid of creamy soap and a blue loofah. She used a floral scented scrub to lift the makeup away from her face, then shampooed and conditioned her hair. By the time her shower was over she felt cleaner and lighter than she had in months. 

After towelling herself dry and hauling on her robe, Molly stood in front of the mirror and coaxed the tangles out of her hair gently with her fingers. The scar on her lips that Briggs had given her had faded into a thin line, but the rend along her scalp was still prominent. It was matched well by the patterns Una had buzzed into her hair, masking its brutality with an aesthetic flare. Still, she hated to see it there, a constant reminder of everything that had happened. 

Molly huffed a sigh and ran her fingertips over the scar; at least having it in plain sight was better than having an awkward bald patch. She couldn’t help wondering if she could ever bear to look at it in her reflection again without feeling fear coiling in her gut and dragging her right back to Briggs’ office and the stink of blood outside of a sterile room. 

Outside of her bathroom, she could hear her parents’ muffled voices over the sounds of cooking. It didn’t sound like they were done, which meant she still had a bit of time to go over the messages she’d missed the night before. Good. Messages would help to keep her from falling right back into that old darkness. 

Most of them were just bits of idle conversation from the _ Nova _ girls, Molly realized as she swept through the orange holo-screen, a few were questions from her classmates on where she had gone off to, and then...

_ Oh. _

A hot wave of guilt rolled through her stomach as a series of messages and missed calls from Rivix flashed before her eyes. He’d watched her run off with Avinthus and wanted to make sure she was okay. When he hadn’t heard back, he’d called and left messages informing her she had a time limit before he informed C-Sec she was missing. A part of her was alarmed he would react like that, but she _ had _ made it clear that seeing Vinth upset her and then disappeared with him. 

_Molly: Sorry Rivix, I had comms silenced. You’re not getting rid of the competition that easily. _

His response was quicker than Vinth’s had been, and longer, telling her he was relieved and that she should drink plenty of water. She had a feeling there would by some not-so-gentle ribbing from him the next time they saw each other...

_Something to look forward to, then, _she thought sardonically.

Smirking, she swiped through her omni once more to stare at the Snowball’s last message. She’d left him hanging, partly because she’d been too giddy to respond and partly because she wasn’t sure how to react. Her lips perked into a smile she couldn’t suppress as her grey eyes danced over the text while she tried to piece together a response. 

_Molly: No promises yet, Snowball. I’m going to try. Busy tomorrow? _

Molly had to keep from getting ahead of herself. That ridiculous impulsive streak combined with her stupidly giddy emotions were a dangerous combo, making it far too easy to sweep the hurt and betrayal under a shiny, happy rug. 

_ One step at a time, Thorne, _ she reminded herself. A _ ping _ from her omni dragged her attention down once more, and she took a deep breath to calm herself when she read the reply.

_ Avinthus: I don’t have to be. Forward the details and I’ll be there. _

Well, that was that. Molly twisted her wrist back to hide the omni screen once more, then shrugged on her robe and smacked her cheeks to try to keep that hideous little smile from growing. She didn’t need to present any tells to her parents, and on that note...

She glared down at her bare thighs and the red patches so fresh they were practically glowing. 

_ Goddamn chafing, _she sighed and grabbed a pair of blue jersey pajama pants from one of the hooks on the wall, stepping into them to hide all remaining evidence of her encounter with Avinthus. 

By the time Molly stepped out of her bathroom, breakfast was ready. She skirted between her folks, pecking her mom’s cheek lightly in thanks, then loaded up her plate with a veritable feast of breakfast foods. Homemade hashbrowns with cheese and garlic, heaps of bacon and sausage, perfect sunny side up eggs, toast with spiced blueberry jam from home, and a pile of fresh grapes were weighing down her plate by the time she was through. 

“Damn,” she sniffed the steam swirling up from the food, “Smells good, mom, but I have to wonder - why the hell are you here _ now _? Do you have any idea when in my day cycle we are?”

Heather arched a brow at her daughter, her withering look rivalling even Molly’s fury. Over her shoulder, Lucas was pressing a fist into his lips to keep from laughing, his own grey eyes twinkling brightly. 

“Well, Bumblebee,” Heather replied, popping a hash brown into her mouth and levelling Molly with a cross little frown. “We’re still running on Newfoundland time, so we got up and bought everything you’d need for a hangover breakfast, then figured we’d sneak it in and load up your fridge for when you woke up. Except you, beautiful daughter, were not home, so we decided to make the breakfast and have it waiting for you whenever you decided to stumble on back here. I _ apologize _ for inconveniencing you.”

Glancing over her mother’s shoulder, Molly saw a very amused Lucas Thorne shrugging away her attempts at casting for a lifeline. He wasn’t about to come to her rescue, judging by the handful of bacon he’d just stuffed down his gob and the unbridled glee he felt watching someone _ else _ fall victim to his wife’s incomparable sass. 

Fine then. Molly was going to have to go it alone.

Except before she could open her mouth to explain herself, Heather’s expression had softened, the harsh lines of her frown fading into exhaustion that mimicked Molly’s own tired expression. She pulled her daughter’s breakfast from her hands and set it on the counter, brows furrowing into a worried expression. 

“I’m sorry, Molly,” she cooed, pulling her daughter in for a hug and smoothing down her hair with long fingers. Molly burrowed her face into her mother’s shoulder, inhaling the rich perfume of hay and salty, sea air in the knit fabric of her grey sweater. With her eyes closed, it was easy to trick herself into thinking she was home, and she was so lost in nostalgia that she almost missed her mother’s whispered admission.

“You’re not one to come home late. When you weren’t here we were so worried, I couldn’t just leave...”

A light touch traced the scar Briggs had left along her scalp and Molly felt another twist of guilt churning in her stomach. 

“I-“

“No apologies!” Heather chirped with forced cheer, gently pushing her daughter away and thrusting her plate back in her hands. “A young woman deserves a night of revelry! You don’t let yourself have enough fun, you foolish little thing, even Tansy would scold you for being uptight. I trust you enjoyed yourself?”

_ Fuck_. 

Molly had let herself relax enough that her mother’s question caught her off guard. She couldn’t help the tired frown as glimpses of her night with Vinth flashed through her memory, ending with the sight of him running barefoot and half dressed through a hotel just to beg her not to give up on...on what, exactly?

That was one of the many questions on her list for their meeting tomorrow: what the hell was it that he wanted from her? Was she just someone he wanted to fuck? Did he want more?

She was all too aware of her mother’s watchful green eyes as colour flooded her cheeks. Far too late, Molly trained her expression into a deadpan despite the warm flush on her cheeks, deciding on stuffing her face full of egg and nodding roughly in response in lieu of words. 

“Uh-huh,” Lucas finally chimed in, slinking up behind Heather to wrap an arm around her waist. “I think we’ll be revisiting _ that _ later, Bumblebee. Don’t underestimate dear ol’ dad’s ability to sniff out a story.”

“I think, dear, what you mean to say is not to doubt her mother’s ability to _ unearth _ a story so her father can take all the credit.”

Running a large hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, Lucas let his jaw drop in a theatrical display of mock-affront, clutching a hand to his chest as he cried, “I have _ never_, not in _ all my life- _“

Heather grinned and shoved a sausage into her husband’s mouth, looking very much like the cat who got the cream when a sidelong glance revealed his _ real _ shock. 

“It’s adorable when you try to win, Lucas, truly.”

Molly grinned over her breakfast, which she realized she desperately needed after the first few mouthfuls. She was absolutely ravenous and manners had gone out the window while her parents were distracted by their own charming back-and-forth. 

They decided to leave her be once she was halfway through her food, pecking her on the cheek after she promised to call them once she was awake. Left alone once more, Molly was free to let her guard down. She leaned against her counter, spearing sausages while her thoughts started back down a very snowy path.

She couldn’t let herself get too giddy over meeting Avinthus the next day. He had only just started opening up to her, and Molly still needed plenty of answers and explanations from him. She wanted to know why he was still on the Citadel and if he planned on staying, she wanted to know who the hell he was outside of all of the turmoil surrounding _ Red Nova_, and she wanted to know what exactly he wanted out of her. Out of _ them_. 

There were a lot of big questions to tackle, and depending on how that conversation went, she’d then have to worry about how in the hell she was going to make her parents understand that the guy responsible for her near-death experience was someone who’d be sticking around. 

_ Shit_.

Once her belly was full, exhaustion reared its ugly head once more, blurring all of her thoughts together until she finally caved and returned her plate to the mess on her counter. She could clean up _ after _a nap. 

Molly stumbled over to the sturdy bed that had replaced her old cot and collapsed on it in a heap, falling asleep before she could settle comfortably into the sheets. 

* * *

Deciding on where to go for dinner with her parents had been a truer test of Molly’s patience than being locked in a room with only Rivix for company would have been. 

The thing about Terrans with cash to burn arriving station-side for the first time was that they either wanted to find the best _ Earth _ food or they wanted to try something truly, utterly alien. Molly’s parents were two perfect examples of both, and they argued for their sides passionately. 

They attempted to rope her into the decision-making process, but whatever insight Molly added to the discussion was immediately dismissed by both of them anyhow. As islanders and lovers of seafood, Heather finally won the argument and pushed for a meal at a respectable asari restaurant within their budget, promising Lucas they could try the Citadel’s take on “authentic Earth food” before they left. 

Their cab ride to the restaurant was eventful. Lucas pressed his face against the window to take in the sights pointing out every landmark to Heather, who responded with amused smiles and a handful of ‘yes dears.’ Laugh lines crinkled around her eyes over her greying husband’s puppy-like excitement, and Molly was once more bombarded with homesickness when she realized they’d be gone again in a little over a week. 

It wasn’t until Lucas pointed out a sign for the Presidium’s botanical gardens that Heather finally leaned over to join him, pressing her nose against the glass of the window. 

“Is there an entrance fee?” She asked, giggling when Lucas pressed their cheeks together. 

“A public space like that? Probably just a handful of credits. Have you been, Bumblebee?”

Molly shook her head, but when she realized her parents weren’t going to pull their faces away from the window to notice, she sighed and said, “When would I have had the time or credits to spare for a tourist trap like that?”

Well _ that _ caught their attention. Heather and Lucas both pulled back from the window to gawk at their daughter, wide-eyed with playful shock. 

“She gets it from your side, Lucas,” Heather nodded sagely, crossing her arms. 

“I take offence to that,” her husband sniffed and folded his own arms. “We Thornes are fun as hell, I’ll have you know. I think she’s just broken.”

“Defective,” Heather agreed.

“A shame, really-“

“Alright, alright! That’s enough, peanut gallery,” Molly huffed a sigh. “I’ve been busting my butt for years on this massive tin can, so keep that in mind while you happily chomp away on asari delicacies tonight in celebration of the end of the exams I _ aced,_ thank-you very much.”

Her parents exchanged sly glances, and Lucas winked at her before teasing, “You don’t know you’ve aced anything yet, dear.”

“I know.”

Before her parents could rib her any further, the cab pulled up to the restaurant and popped open the doors once her mother transferred over the necessary credits. All three of them stepped outside a fairly large restaurant with an arched fish tank serving as the entrance. It was impossible to resist comparing it to the grandeur of _ Ryuusei’s, _and Molly couldn’t help noting that this served as a pale imitation.

Her parents, however, had been overtaken by slack-jacked awe. Thessian sea life drifted and swam around them as they walked through the small, glass-walled arch into the restaurant proper, where a bright-eyed asari host with their fringe dyed pink beamed at them.

They were seated right away, and before Molly had a chance to feel dubious about it their host informed them that a reservation had been cancelled moments before they arrived. The trio was left with their menus and Molly watched on in amusement as her parents marvelled over the names, translations, and informational tidbits for the non-asari patrons. They were charming tourists, at least. 

When their first round of drinks arrived and their order was placed, Molly let her mind and eyes wander as she sipped on asari honey mead. She found herself hypnotized by the fanciful swimming of a long-finned fish when her father cut through her thoughts with a low whistle.

“Lard tunderin’,” he whispered, his accent coming in thick, “That’s a big one!”

Heather followed his gaze, frowning her disapproval over her husband shamelessly staring at aliens in an _ asari _ restaurant. Her judgment vanished in slack-jawed shock as she caught sight of whatever it was Lucas had seen, however. 

“Really, guys?” Molly hissed. 

“It’s not that, Bumblebee,” her mother whispered. “I think it’s... Is that...?”

“Shit. It _ is_, isn’t it?”

Lucas Thorne was the kind of man who was always smiling and laughing, even through the tougher trials life threw his way. When his mother passed away, it had left a deep gash in his heart that had taken years to heal, but he joyously celebrated her life even as the stress aged him far beyond his years, pulling threads of grey through his rich, dark hair. Molly had learned at a very young age that when her father’s frown grew particularly furious it meant there was serious trouble afoot. 

She felt like a little girl again, the knot in her stomach twisting as she wondered what the hell it was her parents had caught sight of - wondering if it was something _ she _ had done. She turned in her seat to follow his gaze, her eyes widening in shock as she caught the outline of Avinthus’ back seated at a table across from the asari named Filana she had met months ago in Huerta Memorial.

“Son of a b-“

“Dad, _ no_,” she hissed, spinning around in her seat to face her parents again just as Filana looked up and met her eyes. “Don’t start anything.”

“But-“

“_Please._”

“Hello again, Thornes,” their server had impeccable timing, intentional or not. “How are those drinks treating you? I’ve brought over a sample of some _ scrumptious _Thessian snacks while you wait for your food, compliments of the chef! She was really charmed when I told her how excited you are to try our food!”

All three members of the Thorne family found themselves staring up at the cheerful asari, unsure of how to respond in light of Avinthus’ appearance. This one had smaller, more modest features than the restaurant’s host, with the exception of a jellyfish tattoo on her forearm. She was keen, too, as she immediately sensed the tension between the three humans she was responsible for keeping entertained. 

“Is their anything else I can do to make your evening more enjoyable?” she asked a little awkwardly, as though she was reading off of a script.

“No, no,” Molly waved her hands and made space for the snacks she had brought over. “Everything is lovely, really! You and the chef both have our thanks.”

She glared at her parents, startling them into action. 

“Yes, yes, dear, thank you!” Heather piped up mechanically, nudging Lucas with her elbow until he parroted her words. 

Molly made a point to offer the server an apologetic smile before she left them alone again, sighing with relief as the woman relaxed. She was left with a blue-eyed wink when the asari ducked away from their table, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the tension between her and her parents. 

“I don’t think we should stay here,” Lucas growled, popping a small, flaky square that reminded her of a tiny croissant topped with something whipped and purple into his mouth. “Or I’m gonna- oh, jumpins! These are _ good_.”

Heather rolled her eyes and tried one, her reaction much the same. 

“Can’t you just ignore him, dear?” she asked, gesturing enthusiastically for Molly to try a pastry. “You’ll be mad at him even if we leave, and I _ really _ want to try the main course if it’s anywhere as good as these are. Besides, we can spend the entire evening glaring at him. It’ll help us feel better.”

“Really, you too? Can’t you both just leave it alone?”

Molly took one of the pastries and found her eyes flying open before she could stop herself. Hell, they really _ were _ tasty. The flaky square melted in her mouth, coating it with an oil or butter or something of that sort, transforming the rich flavour of the whipped purple into something almost citrusy. 

“Right?” Heather asked, grinning at her daughter. “We can’t leave now.”

“Fine,” Lucas agreed with a huff, popping another square into his mouth. “But I’m not going to be happy about it. Really, Bumblebee, I thought you’d be more worked up than we are!”

Molly glared at her drink, unable to stop the flush of colour she knew was creeping up her neck. She felt her mother’s gaze hone in on her and waited for the hammer to drop, her jaw clenched so tightly she was worried her teeth would turn to dust. 

“Seems to me that means we’re overreacting,” Heather sighed, exchanging a glance with her daughter that was knowing and questioning all at once. “Calm down and enjoy your meal, old man.”

“I’m not old! I’m _ wisened_.”

“Yes, dear.”

The rest of their meal passed in relative peace. Molly and her parents chatted about her free week and what she had to do to prepare for her new job. They seemed content enough to eat and chat, even if their wandering gazes betrayed how uncomfortable they felt sitting so close to Avinthus. 

Whenever her parents were distracted, Molly found herself glancing over her shoulder, though Vinth didn’t turn around once. It seemed odd. They were only a few tables away - he must have heard them talking and laughing. Was he going out of his way to pretend they weren’t there to keep the peace? Was he upset that she didn’t rush to his defence when her parents voiced their opinion?

A stone was sinking in Molly’s gut, her nerves fraying from the strain of trying to hold her wandering thoughts in check. It didn’t help that she kept exchanging glances with Filana whenever she looked back at the two. The asari wore a saccharine smile she didn’t trust in the slightest. They were making a show of laughing and enjoying Vinth’s company, fluttering their eyelashes whenever they met Molly’s gaze. 

What the hell was that blue devil playing at? Their ridiculous showboating was leading Molly’s mind down paths she didn’t want to take. She couldn’t help but think about Kormae’s words from the night before: _ ‘Talons are buffed, too, so likely interested in sex outside his species.’ _

Was this the person Vinth had been planning to meet at _ Dance? _ Was Filana more than just an accomplice in everything he had mired himself in at _ Red Nova _ ? What could they possibly be talking about? It didn’t _ look _ like an intimate dinner, but why should it? Just because there were no public displays of affection didn’t mean there wasn’t something between the two of them-

“Molly?”

Heather’s gentle voice grounded her, pulling her out of the din of her own thoughts. Molly glanced up at her mother, whose smile was tight with heartache. She must have noticed Molly turning in her seat, worrying and fussing despite the cookie-cutter smile she forced into place. 

Mothers had a knack for that, especially those who had nursed their daughters’ broken hearts many times before. 

“Should we leave?”

Molly desperately wished to say no so her parents could enjoy their meal, so she could finally catch that awful snowball’s eye and demand answers. 

“Yes,” she sighed instead, “We should. I’m sorry, I-”

“No apologies necessary, Bumblebee.”

She excused herself to the washroom as her parents flagged down their server, grateful that she didn’t have to pass Vinth’s and Filana’s table. 

It was a mercy to find the bathroom empty when she got there. Molly stared into her reflection, at the scar along the side of her head and the knitted mauve tunic that hung loose over her small body. Her grey eyes traced every detail of her expression, and in that moment she felt like she was looking at a stranger. A small, worried, _ frail _ stranger. 

_ What the hell am I doing? _ she asked herself, frowning. 

“What a cute little family,” a familiar voice drawled from the entrance to the bathroom. “What was it they called you? Bumblebee? How _ precious._”

“Hello again, Filana,” Molly sighed, glancing over at the asari in their dark leather pants and their snug red top. “You here to use the washroom or ruin my evening?”

The asari huffed a laugh, placing a hand on a cocked hip as they regarded Molly with their sharp, lilac gaze.

“Friends call me Lana, you know.”

“Fascinating,” Molly pulled away from the sink and turned to leave, finding the exit blocked by a very solid, blue body. “Would you kindly step aside, _ Lana_?”

“Of course,” the asari answered with false sweetness, their lovely, cherub-like face beaming from cheek to cheek. It was some impressive bullshit they spun, that Lana, “But first-”

Molly rolled her eyes and made to push past Avinthus’ strange friend. “But first nothing-”

Lana shifted their weight to block Molly’s path, their fake smile finally trading way for a tight little scowl. It was the first genuine expression they had worn all night.

“That big idiot told me to leave well enough alone and let you all enjoy your night,” they said quietly, refusing to look Molly in the eye. “But I didn’t feel like listening.”

Curious, Molly folded her arms over her chest and leaned back to regard the asari with a dubious arch in her brow. What the hell did they want with her?

“I saw the reports after we collected that friend of yours,” Lana growled. “How is she? It was Leore, right? She making out okay?”

Well _ that _ was unexpected. The tension left Molly in one big rush, and she blinked stupidly at the leather-clad asari. _ Huh? _

“Leore’s fine,” Molly shook her head to clear the confusion. “Er...thanks for your help?”

“Look, I may have gotten off a little on teasing you for the past hour or so, sure,” Lana said with a sigh. “But I mean it when I say I’m glad to hear that. That fucker Briggs did a number on the poor girl, not to mention what he did to that big idiot of ours. Flos couldn’t answer me straight when I asked him, so here I am. Sometimes it’s better not to rely on the reports, you know?”

There was a brief softness in those hard, lilac eyes, one that was gone before Molly could properly name it. Lana didn’t seem to be one for letting their guard down, which meant that a quick glimpse of _ something _ was a slip-up. Their sickly-sweet smile was back in an instant, but Molly understood a little better why the snowball had chosen to work with them in the first place. 

Lana rubbed her the wrong way, sure, but it was clear they had a good heart deep beneath all that sugary bullshit and sarcasm. 

“Er, thanks.” Molly scuffed her toe against the bathroom floor. “For helping her. And, ah, sorry for blackmailing you into doing it?”

“Hah!”

Lana clapped her shoulder, finally stepping aside to let her leave. “I would’ve done the same, _ Bumblebee. _It was a smart move. And hey, thanks for giving that idiot another chance. He’s been insufferable.”

Finally free to return to her parents, Molly left the washroom to find them chatting to the side of the exit, the blue glow of the aquarium painting them in its soft light. While they were distracted she cast Avinthus one final look, and this time she finally met his pale gaze. 

He looked like he wanted to jump out of his chair, but he stayed where he was, blunted talons fussing madly with the cuffs of his expensive sleeves. Something about his worrying was reassuring, and she couldn’t help but offer him an apologetic smile for anything he might’ve overheard. She waved at him before pulling away and heading towards her parents, unable to hide her guilty expression as her father gawked after her. 

They hadn’t been distracted enough, then. 

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

“So, wait, catch me up here,” he whispered to the two women as they walked through the arch of the fish tank once more. “Are we not mad at him? I feel like I’m still mad at him. I would even punch him if I didn’t think he could kill me with one hand.”

“My hero,” Molly groaned.

“Leave it alone, dear,” Heather waved off Molly’s comment with a hand, hooking her arm through her daughter’s. “I have a feeling the answer is complicated and we’ll get it when Molly is good and ready.”

“Why do I feel like you already know the answer? Do you? The hell am I missing?”

“A mother’s intuition, dear,” Heather replied gently. 

“I have a father’s!”

“Yes, dear, and you’re very good at fatherly things.”

“Jumpins,” Lucas sighed as they stepped out into the bright Presidium lights., “We should’ve gotten some of those flaky things to take with us.”

“Yes, dear.”

Molly had a sinking feeling that her quiet week was going to be far more exciting than she had anticipated. 

_ Ah shit_.


	17. Interlude - A Drawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW: Partial nudity.
> 
> We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with a drawing I’ve been dipping in and out for for the past while. 
> 
> Here are two naked idiots beneath the hanging plants in Molly’s apartment. Before they break the cot. 
> 
> RIP faithful cot. 
> 
> And yes, Molly is absolutely the sort of person to hang twinkle lights on her wall. Would she ever admit it out loud? Never. But she is.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two emotional dumpster fires finally rip off the band-aid and talk about everything that’s happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to Some_Writer for the fantastic beta work!
> 
> To those still following, I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter. 2020 has been a hell of a year so far, huh? I hope you and your loved ones are all staying safe and well. <3

_ One week of rest _ , Molly glowered at the ground on the short walk to the tram, _ Just one. No classes, no exams, no work. I wanted _ one _ stress free week. _

Dinner with her parents had been a nightmare. What the hell were the chances of Avinthus and Lana showing up at the same restaurant Molly and her parents had decided on, at the exact same time no less? It was enough to have her wondering if some divine trickster didn’t exist, one who clearly delighted in making her life its own special kind of hell. 

She found a free corner in the crowded tram and let herself stew over the miserable dinner, finding herself shocked to realize that _ Filana _ of all people had been the best part. There was definitely something off-putting about the asari’s attitude, but they at least seemed genuinely concerned about Leore’s wellbeing. There was sincerity behind their words, which warmed Molly up to them considerably. 

A small kernel of hope wedged itself into her chest and tugged at her lips to form a thin smile. It was a long ride from the Presidium Commons back to her shady corner of Bachjret, giving Molly ample time to focus on the little bit of good that came of her evening in hopes it might ease the stress a little. After tonight’s run-in, her plans with Avinthus were quickly becoming something she was loath to face.

She had to talk, _ actually _ talk about everything that had happened or she would never move past it. Seeing her parents looking at him like he was some kind of criminal was a stark reminder that she couldn’t just chase every little thrill and ignore their history. Quietly navigating her feelings on her own was not an option with everything that happened between her and Avinthus, so it was time to face it and put it all out in the open.

The very idea of making herself vulnerable like that had Molly’s brows pinching together so tightly she could feel the beginnings of a wicked headache building between her eyes. 

Her mood was souring again when she was jolted from her thoughts by a sharp jab to the shoulder, snapping Molly’s patience like a dry twig. She whirled around to find the source of the provocation, a thunderous scowl twisting her otherwise soft features into a hideous mask.

Had she known she was going to find herself face-to-face with a very young, down-covered turian child she would have reined in some of her foul mood. As it was, she had unleashed the full fury of her glare on a small child whose mouth immediately cracked open with a shrill keen. 

“Quiet now, little Lero,” her mother cooed, rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry, sir, she was fussing, but she didn’t mean to hit you!”

_ Sir? _

Molly blinked, feeling stupid and ashamed as the terrified child pitched forward to shriek into her mother’s cowl, trying to wriggle in around her neck.

“Now, now, little Lero,” pleaded the mother, “You’re too big for that now! Be brave for mommy.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

The turian woman blinked right back at Molly, running her talons over her black fringe as her face scrunched in puzzlement. She adjusted the little fledgling in her arms before her eyes and mandibles both flared with shocked realization.

“Oh, _ spirits, _ you’re a woman!” she cried over her daughter’s keening, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’ve just moved to the Citadel and I haven’t met many humans, I am so sorry!”

“No, no,” Molly shook her head so violently her auburn hair fell down around her shoulders, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I feel awful, I didn’t mean to scare your daughter, I swear!”

“With barely contained rage: You are both very sorry,” a grizzled elcor behind them had turned to stare blankly at the two women and the crying child, “Impatiently: Now shut that kid up.”

Just like that, Molly’s brow arched upwards in a scathing glare at the old elcor, her temper flaring madly as the handsome turian mother averted her gaze to continue hushing her child.

“Hey, buddy,” she snapped, channeling all of her earlier rage towards him. “How about you grow up and learn to treat people with respect?”

“With thinly veiled disgust: humans have loud mouths and no class.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, you-”

Molly was cut off by the chime of the tram announcement for the next stop, and watched on with a vicious frown as the callous stranger turned his back to her and lumbered out to the platform. Her expression softened once the door closed behind him and she turned to face Lero and her mother. The little one had finally calmed and was brave enough to peer at Molly from where she had nestled into her mother’s carapace. 

“Even if we were loud there are better ways to handle that kind of situation” Molly sniffed, earning a little chuckle from Lero’s mom, “My name’s Molly, by the way.”

“Nefano,” the woman replied with a nod and a friendly trill. “And this is Lero.”

Molly reached her hand up to wave, but Lero had buried her face in her mother’s keel once more. Chuckling, she said, “Don’t worry, little one. I’m not scary, just ugly and fleshy. Promise.”

Nefano laughed in full this time, translating for her daughter who finally met Molly’s grey eyes and nodded. Even without words that nod was unmistakable: _ Yup, ugly, _ it said, though she still pitched forwards in her mother’s arms to touch Molly’s hair. 

When an automated, tinny voice finally announced her stop, Molly exchanged polite nods with Nefano and stepped off the tram feeling a little lighter. Something about kids made it hard to stay angry, even for someone as cantankerous as Molly was that evening. 

She stepped onto the quiet platform with her fist pressed tight against her chest, as though she could trap that small spark of cheer against her heart and force it to take root. What she would give for high cliffs and a raging sea, for wind so savage it ripped the breath from her open mouth. She missed her home, where the weather mirrored her tempestuous moods and the sun breaking through the clouds served as a gentle reminder that she, too, could find peace. 

There was nothing familiar here. Instead of salty sea air, her nose burned with the stink of trash and eezo, and the breeze came from cycled air or the sky cars weaving through buildings overhead. Her brow furrowed as her feet automatically began tracing the path towards home, and Molly kept her gaze trained on the metal walkway when the familiar glow of _ Nova’s _ lifeless exterior painted her hands with faint red light. 

_ Poignant. _

Gritting her teeth, Molly hurried away from that accursed place and crushed her white-knuckled fist into her chest until she rounded the corner. Try as she might to rebel against her heavy mood, she felt like a stone sinking into a deep, black pool where her worries circled like shoals of bright-scaled fish.

She couldn’t help wondering if this was self-inflicted. Until she and Avinthus had crossed paths again, she had forced every thought of him into a locked box that she pushed down and refused to face. She happily painted him as a villain in her story, denying the way her heart twisted when she recalled their brief time together.

If she had confronted her feelings earlier like any sensible person would have then perhaps she would be handling this better. Instead she felt like a baby deer taking its first steps while she navigated the emotional storm Avinthus had once again unleashed in her. She had been feeling hopeful until their run-in at the restaurant, though she now realized that it was because she was only focusing on the good instead of dealing with all of the baggage first. 

It didn’t help that Filana’s presence had unearthed wriggling little insecurities that stirred in the darker corners of her mind where Kormae’s words still echoed. His casual mention of blunted talons was playing on loop, luring out an unfamiliar sense of jealousy that had her chewing her lip. 

Molly was on autopilot for the rest of her walk home, too lost in her own head to pay attention to her surroundings. She didn’t even notice the friendly nod from her batarian neighbour. Instead she kept her gaze glued on her feet while the dull throb between her eyes bloomed into a full-blown headache. 

Once she slipped into her apartment, Molly kicked off her shoes and padded across the cold floor to flop unceremoniously onto her bed. She was tempted to forget the plans she had made with that big, idiot Snowball so she could spend the next day crooked and alone in her pyjamas with only her plants for company. 

Sighing, she curled into a ball and drew her wrist towards her face. There was no way she could have any peace until she faced this. Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, Molly sent a brief message to Avinthus, telling him when to meet her at _ Len’s _. 

Without waiting for a response she stripped down to her underwear and ripped her sheets off the bed, wrapping herself up in a linen cocoon until the warmth soaked through her skin and lulled her into sleep. 

* * *

The following day saw little improvement in Molly’s mood. If anything, her nerves frayed and sparked like live wires, leaving her a worried mess. She bounced like a yo-yo between anxiousness and excitement as she tried and failed to do something other than stew on the night she had ahead of her. 

It didn’t come as any surprise that she was handling things so gracelessly; Molly kept her heart so tightly guarded that the very idea of being vulnerable churned her stomach. She went through the motions of her day on autopilot, blindly passing the time through busywork and extranet scrolling.

Her only fleeting distraction came in the form of breaking headlines that loudly insert themselves into every stupid video she tried to watch, announcing to the galaxy that Alliance Commander Jennifer Shepard had just been made the first human spectre. Molly recognized her from the Alliance recruitment ads, and for a few minutes she was swept up in the excitement.

That excitement didn’t last, however, so she returned to her mindless fretting until it was finally time to start getting ready. Molly forced herself to eat something and finally hauled on some clothes after wasting time fussing over what to wear, eventually giving up and throwing on leggings and a snug turtleneck dress. 

_ One step at a time _. 

The walk to _ Len’s _took longer than she was used to; the streets were busier this time of day, which made the crowds a little harder to navigate. It was a small mercy that Molly could easily slip between the press of bodies, one of the few perks of her short stature.

Never in her life had she felt more nervous walking into _ Len’s _. She pushed on the heavy door and walked through the small hallway, lured forwards by the bouncing, electric energy of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers: one of Len’s favourites.

The familiarity of the music and the powerful scent of greenery was a salve for her jagged nerves, and for once the bar was actually crowded. A crowd meant there were more voices to wash out whatever conversation was awaiting her, eliminating the worry of being overheard. 

Pushing her way through the grizzled old dock workers buzzing about Commander Shepard, Molly smiled weakly up at Len and ordered a cheap gin and tonic. His bushy grey brows shot skyward at her order, but he held his tongue until her drink was ready and he leaned across the bar to whisper, “Your big guy is waiting in the booths.”

_ Ah. Shit. _

Well, at least the agony of waiting was done and over with.

When Molly moved to pay for her drink, Len batted her hand away and pointedly turned his back to her to serve another customer. She frowned after him before hurrying away from the crowd. The crew of older gents was a boisterous lot, and a few of them had noticed Molly standing on her own. If she wasn’t careful she was at risk of getting dragged into whatever drunken ramblings they were all caught up in. She did _ not _ have the patience to entertain drunken old fools, not tonight.

_ Now or never Thorne. _

Wrapping her hands around the cool, thin glass, Molly rounded the corner to the same booth she and Vinth sat in the last time they were here. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, and yet when she found herself meeting Vinth’s hungry, searching gaze it felt like she had been transported back in time. 

That familiar intensity scoured her heart until it felt hollow, and for a moment she was frozen in place. No matter how many walls she built, when he looked at her like that she felt as though every secret was laid bare for him. What could he possibly be searching for? Something that he could use to get what he wanted from her? Had she been right about him all along?

“Sorry.”

Molly snapped out of her spiralling thoughts and watched as Vinth’s stiff posture crumbled. He buried his face in his hands, exhaustion sagging his shoulders and dulling the buzz of unintelligible subvocals. 

“Long day,” he explained as Molly finally slipped into the round booth to sit across from him. “I think I came here expecting another fight.”

“Another fight?”

Molly’s eyes narrowed and she watched him sit up again, letting his hands drop to the table to grip his beer. Sweat had beaded on the bottle of _ Sphaera Frigus, _which she recognized by the shape of the bottle alone. His restless talons had already turned the label to shreds.

When Vinth finally met her gaze again, his mandibles were pinched tight against his face. Whatever was on his mind was eating at him, that much was clear. She had to wonder if it involved Filana, or maybe it was someone else? Kormae’s words slithered through her thoughts as she watched Avinthus tap his blunted talons against the glass bottle, but she shoved that question aside. That would be for later. 

“Yeah, I was talking to my parents earlier.” Molly watched him turn the bottle with his long fingers and fought the urge to reach out and hold them still. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, right?”

“No,” she sighed. “It’s not.”

Not that she wasn’t terribly curious, but those questions could wait for later. Silence stretched between them as Molly settled back in her seat and sipped her drink, trying to collect her thoughts and make enough sense of them to start talking. Vinth remained quiet while he waited, the space between them filled with lively music that served as a stark contrast to the heavy cloud that hung over the pair. 

“You’re still on the Citadel,” Molly finally settled on starting with an easy question, one that had been sitting quietly in the back of her mind. “Why?”

It took the Snowball by surprise. His pinched mandibles flicked open as he fixed his eyes on hers, confusion flickering through his icy gaze before he tossed his shoulders and answered, “I wanted to stay. Do something different with my life.”

Huh. It was her turn to be surprised, then. 

“Don’t you have some big family name to live up to? A legacy to keep alive or something?”

That struck a nerve. Vinth’s face darkened as he considered his answer, his hands gripping the _ Sphaera _ bottle so tightly she would have sworn she heard the glass groan from the strain. 

“Yeah,” he huffed. “A big damn legacy that my whole life has been revolving around. Turns out that when I stopped to ask myself if that was what I wanted the answer was no.”

“Hence the fight?”

Vinth didn’t answer, nor did Molly push. It was confirmation enough when he leaned back in the booth and glared up at one of Len’s many leafy ferns. Maybe it was a line of questioning she should leave alone, but her head was still an anxious mess and it was far easier to follow the natural course of conversation rather than forcing her hectic thoughts into order. 

“Is it worth it to walk away from all that? Aside from the constant threat of death, it doesn’t seem like a bad life,” Molly sipped her drink again and tried to ignore the gooseflesh that bloomed across her skin when Avinthus fixed his icy stare on her. 

_ Enough of that, Thorne, _she mentally kicked herself before her hormones could take over.

“You seemed happy enough when you shared your war stories before,” she added. To her surprise, Vinth’s mandibles flew open in shock.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he sighed, his voice laced with a subvocal thrum that was caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. 

“What?”

She was genuinely perplexed, and when Avinthus realized that Molly was not, in fact, kidding him, he chuckled and took a swig of beer.

“You were perfectly content to risk your life working at _ Nova _ so you could reach your goals, Moll,” Vinth tipped his head forward, fixing his intense gaze on her once more. It was enough to send a flush creeping up her neck. “I expected you of all people would understand wanting more than ’ _ happy enough.’ _”

_ Oh. _

“Oh.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. Molly knew her fair share of people who rivalled her passion and drive, but she knew just as many who were perfectly content doing whatever kept them afloat and stable. She just assumed that Avinthus was fine with his lot in life, considering all of the perks she now knew came with the Flos family name. 

What a privilege it must be to have wealth and power at your fingertips and still manage to fuss over whether it was _wanted_. She was almost tempted to throw that in his face, yet she couldn’t deny that he was right. Molly’s ‘happy enough’ was a comfortable life back on Earth and it was a life she refused to settle for. It was, in fact, a life she feared being stuck in. How could she criticize him when she had rebelled so violently against the happy, quiet life that anyone would be lucky to have?

“Oh, yeah,” Avinthus had grown thoughtful again, his gaze wandering back to the bottle he kept turning around in his fingers. “I blame you for that.”

“Excuse me?”

For a brief moment her guard snapped back up, but when she saw the cocky flick of Snowball’s mandible she knew he was just baiting her. 

_ Ah, a trap. _

Next would come the charm, and she wasn’t sure she had the mettle to resist. 

“I never questioned whether or not I was happy before,” he shrugged. “Or if pleasing my parents was something I wanted. I didn’t flinch when Veri was fighting for his dream and rebelling against everything that was expected of us. I never chafed against the life I had at all until I met you and saw how badly you wanted to reach your goals, Moll. You were fighting so hard to get through school that I’m still not sure if you’re a woman or a force of nature wearing human skin. The only thing I’m sure of is that I want that too. I want to have something I’m willing to fight that hard for. Something I can call my own.”

Molly did not, in fact, have the mettle to resist. She wrenched her gaze away from the overgrown lump, refusing to look him in the eye while his words set her cheeks ablaze. If he was just playing her then he was doing a damn fine job, since apparently all it took to make her swoon was to appeal to her ego. 

“I’m just stubborn,” she grumbled and glared at the innocent booth just above his shoulder.

“No.”

The sudden drop in Vinth’s tone drew her attention back to his icy blue eyes. Molly was like a moth to a flame: she knew the way he looked at her would scorch her like a devil’s tongue but she still could not resist the pull. 

Avinthus slowly reached his hands towards hers, as though he was angling to capture a bird and cage it within his fingers. Molly had every opportunity to pull away, to draw a line in the sand and keep control of their conversation. Instead she met his eyes and let him grab hold of her, the rough heat of his touch prodding that wreckless, hungering creature within her. She drew a sharp breath through her nose as Vinth tugged her hands, gently urging her to lean in closer to him. 

Vinth had the calloused hands of a trained killer; they were riddled with small scars from years of fighting and handling weapons. She could feel the story woven by the marks on his hide when his hands closed tight around hers, and all of a sudden Molly was at a loss for words. It frightened her how badly she wanted to know more, to learn every intimate detail of his life. 

_ Pull yourself out of it, Thorne. You’re here to give him hell _.

“You’re not just stubborn,” Avinthus’ voice had dropped to little more than a growl rumbling in his throat, snapping Molly’s attention back to him. If his hands were caging her, his voice had her bound and chained. She could hardly breathe, let alone move as the low tone of his voice raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck. 

“You’re not just stubborn,” he repeated, shaking his head like she was a child struggling to learn a very simple lesson. “You’re powerful. Powerful in so many ways, and...”

The tension in Vinth’s grip slackened and his fingers fell away from Molly’s hands as his words trailed off. She tilted her head in question as he pulled his gaze away, all of his confidence and the heat it inspired between them disappearing like smoke in the wind.

Blinking, Molly took his very large hands in hers and squeezed his palms, a gentle pressure to encourage him to look up and explain his sudden shift in mood. When their eyes met she caught the subtle flicker of mandibles before he held them tight to his face and drew a deep breath through his nose. 

Anxious subvocals whirred through the booth as he finally explained in a soft, faint voice, “And I have no idea how to set things right.”

And there it was: the beginning of the conversation they should have had after they met at _ Dance _. Silence grew between them like a wall of gnarled roots, choking whatever had bloomed in that brief heat. Molly pulled away from Vinth and sat back in her seat, folding her arms over her aching chest. It was better like this, to be free of the haze that took hold of her when she was around that damned Snowball. 

Finally Molly sighed and said, “Neither do I, but I think we have to give up on going back to where we were. It makes more sense to focus on finding a way forward, away from everything that happened at _ Nova _.”

That got his attention. Avinthus fixed her with a searching gaze, a spark of hope gleaming in his silver-blue eyes. 

“So,” his voice was so soft it was barely a whisper, and Molly had to lean forward to hear him over the din. “Does that mean…?”

He seemed fearful of saying anything more, as though putting the words together just gave her the opportunity to rip them apart and ruin him. She looked away and felt the sudden drop in his subvocals, the hollowness in his heart ringing a low note in the booth. His confidence was as shaky and tenuous as hers had been, his mood bouncing just as erratically. Moments ago he could have charmed a cat off a fish box, and now he took a sideways glance to mean the end of everything he told her he wanted to fight for. 

Avinthus Flos was a tangled mess of issues and inconsistencies, his moods constantly shifting with the tides. Yet, in spite of all of that, in spite of the pain he’d caused her and the countless other reasons she should walk away, Molly forced out a small, apologetic smile. 

“It means I’m going to try,” she explained, “But not before I’ve had my say.”

Molly watched the tall, snowy-white beast of a man straighten his back and shoulders, his expression falling blank as he waited for her to speak her mind. It took a considerable force of will for her to keep her composure once she realized this turian soldier, a trained killer who towered over her and could probably snap her in half if he ever felt so inclined, was steeling himself for a dressing down from a tiny human who barely stood higher than five feet tall. 

She swallowed her laughter and closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts towards her with a level-headedness she’d be lacking for months. Funny how easy it was to confront her own feelings when she wasn’t running from them or pushing them down. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how bad you fucked up,” Molly met Vinth’s eyes again, impressed at how he held his composure despite the way he strained his throat to keep his vocals in check. “But I’m going to because I need you to hear it.”

Molly took a deep breath to finally let the words flow out of her, giving shape to every thought and every feeling she had been keeping locked away.

“You knew how hard it was for the girls working there. You knew how Briggs ran things, knew he was a violent prick with a reputation he more than lived up to. He didn’t make our lives hell with mean words and impossible standards. He _ beat _ us, Vinth, and you knew that. You knew and you kept making it worse, hiding who you were and letting me get close to you, giving you a cover for being there, putting our lives in danger. You let me cry on your shoulder over Leore and you never said a fucking word.”

Avinthus remained stone-faced, but his eyes were shining wetly as Molly laid her heart bare for him.

_ Good _.

Maybe it was petty to take pleasure in seeing Avinthus hurt, but it hardly seemed fair that Molly should be the only one to cry over everything that happened. She turned her head, giving him a moment to blink and compose himself, then pressed on. 

“You put a lot of lives at stake with your bullshit, you know. You ran in hotheaded with a half-baked plan and almost got a lot of people seriously hurt or killed. A lot of people who didn’t deserve it. And you _ knew _ what you were doing. You knew and you did it anyways, and there was no justice in that, no matter what you tell yourself.”

She gave him a moment to digest her words, watching as his posture deflated and his head bowed forward to hide his eyes in shadows. Molly returned her attention to her drink, relishing the cool touch of the glass on her lips as she took a slow, deliberate sip. She wasn’t quite finished speaking her mind, but taking a breather gave them both a chance to calm down. 

This was her first time actually laying out her feelings, even for herself, and Molly was surprised at how fast her heart was racing. All of the anger and resentment that she had kept buried were finally getting a chance to breathe, to flare up, burn, and be heard. Giving them voice gave them life again, and while she maintained her stoic expression she felt her fingers trembling when she released her glass. While her anger was no longer the firestorm that had burned her heart raw months ago, it was still enough to shake her. 

“I’m sorry, Moll,” Vinth had buried his face in his palm, muffling his unsteady voice, “Fuck, I’m so- I wish I could take it back-”

“Well, you can’t,” Molly cut him off, fighting to keep her voice even when Avinthus lifted his head slowly to peer at her through his scarred fingers, revealing a glimpse of his miserable expression.

“You can’t take it back, so just do better. One step at a time.”

That seemed to stoke the fire in him back to life. He rubbed his hand over his crest and drew a deep breath, sitting back in his seat and thoughtfully mulling over her words. Molly couldn’t help the gentle smile that twitched in the corner of her lips as she traced her fingers over the recipes tattooed on her arm. Her grandmother’s words had become a mantra to her over the course of her life, and she wondered now if that would be passed along to the overly large lump of turian sitting before her.

“I can manage that,” Avinthus breathed, his shoulders relaxing, “I _ will_.”

“I’m holding you to that, Snowball,” Molly grinned, and watched his hands reach for hers again.

_ Now’s as good an opportunity as any, I suppose. _

She snatched one of his hands and pulled it close to her, the sudden aggression startling the big lug. 

His mandibles flicked outward in a staccato rhythm, his confusion clear as day as he so eloquently asked, “Uhhh?”

“I’m guessing these weren’t for me?”

Face falling back into a comfortable deadpan, Molly turned his palm until his blunted talons were facing upward. She made a show of regarding them thoughtfully, artfully arching her brow until she heard the low, anxious whine of subvocals. A quick glance told her Vinth’s throat was buzzing.

_ Good _.

“No,” sighed Avinthus, and Molly was shocked by the tight coil of nerves in her stomach. She had no right to be jealous or possessive, yet she couldn’t help herself. He opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off with a cross look. She wanted her next question answered before the conversation got away from her, lest the insecurities that had been seeded by Filana’s presence at the restaurant begin to take root. 

“For Filana, then?”

She could tell by the look of slack-jawed surprise that her suspicion had been wildly off the mark. It was as comforting as it was humiliating, since asking about the asari meant revealing a glimpse of her pathetic fretting for Avinthus to see.

When the Snowball had finally gathered his wits he closed his fingers around Molly’s again and sighed, “No, Lana’s just a friend. This was...”

He paused, shifting his eyes at everything within his sights that wasn’t her. 

“It was denial,” he admitted, “I missed you and kept telling myself I was just going through a phase, that any human would do.”

“And?”

She felt her heart racing, the growling green beast in her gut flexing its claws.

“And I was in denial.”

That familiar intensity had found its way back into Vinth’s pale eyes, which he mercifully pointed toward the ceiling. Molly focused on their hands and the imperfect fit of five and three fingers, her ears burning with embarrassment.

“I didn’t want any of them, I just didn’t want to see the truth of it. There’s a human saying for it...something about ports...”

“Any port in a storm,” Molly supplied, her stomach twisting as the thought of Vinth leading random women back to his hotel room kept playing on loop in her head. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he growled, “But they weren’t you so I’d just end up miserable, which pissed me off. I don’t like being a sad sack and that’s all I’ve been since Veritas was gunned down.”

Slowly, Molly leaned across the table to rest a hand on Vinth’s cheek, brushing the backs of her fingers along the sweeping lines of his Palaven markings until they locked eyes once more. 

“That’s not all you’ve been,” she said softly, the hammering of her heart chasing away the last of her petty jealousy. Avinthus leaned into her touch, the gentle crooning of his subvocals like a siren song from a fairy story. 

He turned his head, catching one of her fingers between the plates that lined his mouth in an awkward take on a kiss. That one motion disarmed Molly so thoroughly she could feel her guard melting away like snow in springtime.

Avinthus watched the flush she could feel creeping over her cheeks and he pulled away, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he growled, watching Molly snatch her hand back and press it against her chest with a hunger in his eyes so intense it was dragging her under. “There’s no going back from this.”

All she could do was laugh, then, because it was the truest thing he had ever said to her. 


	19. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a chapter of some really NSFW filth with some actual conversation after the line break.
> 
> I continue to be endlessly grateful for Some_Writer being gracious enough to beta my strange little dumpster fire. 
> 
> Also hello, yes, I'm back. Hell of a year 2020 has been huh? Hope anyone still reading this is staying safe and healthy. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder from the last chapter (because it's been a while), Vinth ended things off by saying, “There’s no going back from this.”
> 
> Molly spends the first bit of this chapter mulling over his words and eventually responding to them.

Every sensible thought in Molly’s head vanished, scurrying away with her attempts to grasp for a word, a look to throw, _ anything_. Instead all that came forward was a memory from her childhood, fuzzy around the edges after years laying untouched in the furthest corners of her mind. It was one of the few times her grandmother had dragged her to church just so she could kick her feet, bored, and watch as the priest raised his hands up into whirling motes of dust. The specks glimmered in the sunlight slanting through arched windows, and all around her the congregation echoed the impassioned words ringing from the old priest’s papery lips. 

Now, in a quiet corner in _ Len’s, _ of all places, she heard the voices of that congregation again. This time they echoed the words that were etching themselves into her thoughts, her skin, her stupid fucking _ heart. _

_ There’s no going back from this _ , they chanted, _ no going back going back going- _

“Moll?”

Wordlessly, Molly reached her hands forward on the table, knuckles trailing through the rings left by their drinks, and turned her palms upward - an invitation. Her eyes never left Vinth’s, too ensorcelled by whatever bizarre, fragile thing shone in his pale eyes to move. She inhaled sharply as his dull talons brushed across her skin, tracing lines from her wrist down to her fingers. 

_ ‘I don’t really believe,’ _ Tansy had said as she pulled a young Molly along, out of the church, _ ‘Never really have. But the company is nice, isn’t it?’ _

Tansy Thorne had spent a great deal of her life alone, building walls around her heart. Just like her grandmother, Molly never believed in anything besides herself. Even in her most social and carefree phases she preferred isolation, and she never indulged in silly notions of fate, romance, or even simple faith in other people. The solitude she was taught to embrace had grown tenfold since she moved to the Citadel, until she actively pulled away from the people around her to keep her path forward clear. It grew until the chasm between herself and the rest of the galaxy was too wide to bridge. Or at least it was until Avinthus had decided to step in her way, fretting with the cuffs of his sleeves and cutting through her resolve with the intensity of his stare until she surrendered herself to the truth: she wanted him. _ All _of him. 

She wanted the quick banter, the closeness, the strange three-fingered sweep of his talons in her hair. She wanted the faint scent of leather and metal that lingered when he left a room. Hell, she even wanted the idiot with the wasted heart, the part of him that was so monumentally stupid he almost got them and the _ Nova _ girls killed. Knowing that meant it was finally time to switch off her winding brain and take a leap of faith, didn’t it?

Yes. Yes, she felt as though it did. 

And what a strange sensation Molly was throwing herself into, opening herself up to someone and all the possibilities that came with them. She felt raw and vulnerable, and while she still wasn’t sure who or what to believe in, she understood her grandmother’s words now more than she ever had.

_ ‘The company is nice, isn’t it?’ _

A fleeting smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she thought that yes, maybe Tansy Thorne had been onto something. 

Avinthus’ eyes caught the small twitch in her lips and cocked a mandible at the tell. When his gaze lingered, Molly stood on the tips of her toes to lean across the table and close the gap between herself and the giant, stupid Snowball, grinning in earnest. He tilted his head to meet her, brushing nasal plates over the arch of her cheekbone as she whispered under her breath, “There is _ one _ place we can go back to. What do you say?”

Vinth’s grip flexed and he squeezed her hands tight, a light growl rising in his throat to answer her question. Before Molly had the chance to catch her breath they were neatly stepping through the crowd at _ Len’s_, breaking into the Bachjret traffic with their hands clasped; the pair moved against the crowd like fish swimming upstream, spurred on by the building heat and this great, unspoken _ something _ that arced between them. She let Avinthus take the lead, relying on his sheer size to break the crowd for them.

The view from behind was an added perk. 

He shouldered his way through the throng until they reached her building, where he slapped the call button for the elevator and tapped his foot impatiently. Molly’s neighbour - the batarian who was slowly warming up to her - came in behind them and studied the pair from the corners of his eyes, clearing his throat awkwardly. His glance raked over their tightly-clasped hands, Molly’s flamed cheeks, and the tight lines of Vinth’s throat. The tension between them must have been palpable, because he was eager to look anywhere but at them after his first once-over. 

Molly was shocked he hadn’t glared holes into the stainless steel of the elevator by the time the doors slid open and they wordlessly parted ways. Once they were in her apartment, however, every errant thought slipped away. Vinth pulled her inside and went about taking off his boots as she locked the door behind him with her omni. She didn’t bother turning on the lights; the dim glow from new UV lamps that kept her plants growing was enough. 

Kicking off her own shoes, Molly hurried to close the distance between herself and the overgrown lump that was Avinthus Flos. He had his back to her while he stepped out of his boots, so she grabbed him from behind and slipped her fingers up under his shirt, lightly raking her nails over the sensitive hide. He shivered at the touch, air whistling as he drew a sudden sharp breath through pinched nasal plates. 

Pressing her forehead against Vinth’s hard back as she traced the leathery skin, Molly froze when she reached the gnarled and twisted scars that Briggs had left him with. It felt like cool water had poured down the back of her neck, icing her veins and stealing her breath until her rage flared to life.

Her hands, now moving of their own accord, pushed up the cool fabric of Vinth’s shirt and tugged lightly at his hip until he turned towards her. His hands found her shoulders, dwarfing them with his sheer size as she leaned forward and swept her lips over the bumps and dips of his ruined flesh. She knew it was foolish; it was far too late to take away the pain, but there was a small voice that was urging her to keep going, to blur the sharp edges of painful memories and replace them with something tender.

_ Who the fuck am I becoming? _

The question was chased away as Vinth gripped Molly’s shoulders a little more tightly, pushing her back from him until he could look her in the eyes. She saw it there again, that nameless something she was too cowardly to face. 

As if he sensed Molly’s trepidation, Vinth slid one of his hands up her shoulder to cup her neck, scattering any worried thoughts she had like dandelion seeds in the wind. A flush crept up to flame her cheeks as he swept a taloned thumb over her jawline, stopping at her chin. With a little push her head tilted back, fully exposing the lines of her neck - something she was happy to have laid bare, unlike the muddy waters of her heart. He traced them with the backs of his knuckles, then nudged Molly back with his hips, herding her towards her bed. 

She was helpless to resist him. 

Slowly, and with measured steps, Molly moved backwards. She was careful to keep contact with his hips, the heat of him luring her closer like a moth to the flame. She wanted to bask in him, and the more she lost herself in the feel of him the more aware of him she was.

With every step,rough plates bit into her skin, even through the fabric of their clothes,the brief sparks of pain delicious in a way she couldn’t name. Her breath came heavier, hotter, and she peered up at Vinth through her lashes. The dim luminescence from her lamps had painted him with a wash of purple light and heavy shadows, but his ice-blue eyes still flashed hungrily in the darkness. The look she saw in them was all the encouragement Molly needed.

As they staggered back towards her bed, she deftly tackled the many fastenings and zippers in his clothes, working with a precision and dexterity that only a trained surgeon could boast. She eagerly bared his chest, pausing as the fabric pulled away to reveal the patchwork mess of plates that Quostis had managed to salvage. 

Once more she found herself sweeping the soft press of her lips across his scars with a tenderness that shocked her. Then Vinth’s grip in her hair was tightening and tugging at her scalp until it tingled and Molly gasped, luxuriating in the sweet sting until her mattress connected with the backs of her legs and buckled her knees. She lurched backwards with a startled cry, expecting to fall back when Avinthus pulled his hands from her hair to grip her shoulders again, bracing her against his bare stomach until she was steady.

They stayed like that for a moment, with Molly’s breath skirting along his hide and her fingers sliding up the backs of his thighs once she was over her initial shock. A low purr rumbled in Vinth’s chest, tickling her skin where her cheek pressed up against him. She continued her exploration, dipping her hands into his pants and coaxing them down so she could glide her fingers through the gaps in his plates, teasing the sensitive hide on his legs until his breath began to shake and his talons dug hard into her shoulder. 

“Your hands are so small,” he sighed, a honeyed note humming in his subvocals. “I never expected they’d be so-”

“Effective?”

Molly’s voice curled from her lips like smoke as she scraped her nails hard over the plates of his loosening seam. It wouldn’t hurt, but Vinth would surely feel the vibrations in his cock. Her gaze flicked upwards, watching his face ardently, delighting in the flash of teeth as he gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“_Spirits _, Moll, I-”

She scratched again, but this time his eyes met hers and flashed hungrily before he pushed her back onto the bed, flicking a mandible in a mischievous smirk. Molly’s hands flew up in a lame attempt to catch her balance when she tumbled backwards, giving Vinth the chance to catch them and pin them above her head. She feigned indignation until he leaned forward to nip the shell of her ear and growl, “Want to try that again, Thorne?”

Before she could string a thought together he wedged his knee roughly between her legs, his breath hot on her neck. 

“Well?”

In spite of her best efforts, Molly whimpered. Even so, she met his eye with a sidelong glance; the icy blue she knew so well had darkened with a wicked desire to taste, to touch, to have _ more_. She knew the look, and she knew he saw it in her, too. Tilting her head to meet his lips with hers, Molly grinned and nipped the tough plates of his mouth playfully. She ground herself against his leg, breath hitching, and taunted, “Want to make me, Flos?”

He chuckled, the sound rolling low in his chest, and released his grip on her face so he could grab the hem of her dress. In one swift motion he pulled the clingy fabric up over her head, leaving it bunched up where he had her hands pinned. The rush of cool, cycled air over her bare stomach pricked her skin with gooseflesh. Vinth ran the backs of his plated fingers over the pebbled expanse, cocking a mandible at her again.

“Not particularly,” his answer came late and low, rasping between subvocals. He released her hands and made short work of her leggings and panties both, tugging them down enough for her to easily kick them off. “I want something else.”

Avinthus’ voice was luscious and molten, seeping through her and scorching her until the velveteen folds of her sex were slick. He dropped himself low, his face so close to her stomach that she could feel the heat of his breath lapping against her. Molly arched her back up in response, moving into him like a flower to sunlight. The flick of his tongue against the lines of her hip had her gasping softly, a quiet plea for more. 

He answered her call with agonizing care, exploring every inch of flesh below her waist with sharp little nips and the soothing drag of his tongue. 

She was being worked into a frenzy. Vinth’s plated lips tugged at her a little harder each time, and when he inched his way down and so tantalizing close to the sweet ache between her thighs Molly reached blindly for his head, grasping at the sleek tines of his fringe. She needed purchase, an anchor with which to ground herself as her vision blurred white at the edges from a mounting, desperate need for him to _ get to it _.

Vinth paused the clever ministrations of his mouth the moment she touched him, peering up at her with an arrogant little gleam in those silvery eyes of his. She wanted to smack him, but there was something so utterly charming about it that all she could manage was a wobbly frown as his thumb found her clit and massaged it just enough to ignite sparks in her.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “You.”

“That a promise?”

He didn’t give her the chance to answer. Two large, three-fingered hands grabbed her thighs and lifted her with ease. Molly made a startled noise in the back of her throat as she was tossed around like a rag doll; she could barely track what was happening until her apartment stopped spinning around her and she was straddling Avinthus. He was lounging back in her bed, propped up on the pillows, his chest bare and his pants down around his knees. She could feel the slick tip of his cock, now fully unsheathed, pressed lightly against her backside. 

“You’re so pleased with yourself,” grumbled Molly, tossing aside her dress and leaning forward to brace herself with her palms on Vinth’s patchwork abdomen. 

“No,” his correction came louder than she expected, startling her into looking up and meeting his eyes. The playfulness had fallen away, cementing into that unspeakable intensity she had seen earlier. His face shifted and softened when he caught her eye, and he grasped her hands to pull them towards his face. “Not with myself. Just…pleased.”

_ Fuck_. _ No going back. _

Vinth nuzzled his face lightly against the backs of her fingers, his touch far gentler than it had been since they came into her apartment. His eyes never left Molly’s; they held her captive, moving something deep and unnamed to life within her when he opened her palms and fluttered a mandible across them. Back in the dust and the ruin of her heart, something welled, something sweet and yearning that she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. 

It was soft at first, but it grew rapidly, gushing forth and crashing through her with every second that passed. Avinthus released her hands and pushed up, closing the space between them and pressing his open mouth against her lips, which parted for him without hesitation. Their tongues met and they melted into each other, wrapping arms (and in Molly’s case, legs) around each other until their bodies were wound so tightly together it was hard to tell where Avinthus ended and Molly began. 

And she didn’t hate it, didn’t want to run or push him out or kill what was growing there before it had a chance to live. Against all odds, against her better judgment, Molly _ wanted _ this. The metallic tang of Avinthus’ tongue in her mouth, the rich scent of him, the scrape and sting of his plates that made her body sing - she wanted it so bad that it felt like there was some great chasm forming in her, one that only he could fill.

Molly clutched either side of Vinth’s head, pulling away from his kiss to catch her breath. He immediately broke away from her grip so he could press his forehead to hers and breathe with her. When she opened her eyes she found Vinth’s peering back at her, pupils blown, as he scanned for any sign of what she might be thinking.

“Something wrong?” his voice was strange, rich with subvocal notes she could neither name nor place. Still, they came together harmoniously on the fringes of her hearing, soothing the sudden and overwhelming feelings that were pulling her under.

Wrong? No, nothing was wrong. It was all just so much at once…but how could she explain it to him in a way that made sense when she barely understood what was happening herself?

“No,” her tongue felt thick in her mouth, weighed down by all of the words she couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Just…”

Molly’s fingers moved of their own accord, sweeping over the sculptural planes of his face. She focused on everything but his eyes, which so often made her feel as though he could see straight through her. 

Something shifted in Avinthus’ posture and he nodded, finding an understanding where Molly could not even though she evaded him. It should have pissed her off, but instead she found relief in not having to explain herself. His grip slackened, hands dropping to rest on either one of her thighs. From the corner of her eye she caught him quirking a mandible, which was all the warning he gave before squeezing her legs hard and burning away every shred of worry and uncertainty.

How did he always manage to clear the cobwebs in her mind with a simple touch? Whatever the answer, it was something that Molly was infinitely grateful for in that moment. Her breath hitched and she pitched forward to lean on his chest again, finally catching his eye to see that the hunger that darkened them had grown.

Thumbing her clit, Vinth cocked his head back with a vicious grin and growled under his breath. “Don’t overthink it. Just feel it.”

Easy enough instructions with his hands on her again. Molly was trembling from the simple application of pressure, if only because the anticipation that came from knowing just what he could do had her coming apart at the seams. 

_ Just feel it, huh? _

That was exactly what she did. Molly let go, let that chasm that started splitting her heart open rip right through her. She fell back to luxuriate in the potent intimacy they shared, feeling raw, raw enough that every touch, every word, every _ breath _ they shared was like a livewire to her nerves. She arched back where she straddled Avinthus’ waist, thighs spreading with every delicious circle of his thumb to encourage him to go harder, to go further.

He slipped a finger inside, and she just barely heard the low rasp of his command over her own muffled cry of pleasure. “Fuck it,” he’d said, just like he had in the hotel elevator. Except it wasn’t like then at all, because this time as she ground down against him their eyes were fixed to each other, drawn like magnets.

Avinthus watched on hungrily as she began to unravel, devouring the sight of her as he brought his free hand forward to grasp her clit between his digits, then squeezed lightly until her movements stuttered and her breath flew from her lungs. There was something wicked and divine in watching him watch her, in feeling the twitch of his cock against her back with every ragged breath and sharp gasp.

“Don’t stop,” came his breathless whisper, and who was she to refuse him?

Molly braced herself against his chest and continued to roll her hips, shivering violently as his squeezing fingers tightened to a pinch. A rapturous cry tore from her lips and she clenched hard around his finger, pitching forward to fall against his chest as her body was racked with the sinful pulse of her climax.

She didn’t have a chance to breathe or come down from it at all; the moment Avinthus had gently pulled his finger free of her sodden flesh he grabbed her hips and pulled her back against his cock. Just the heat of it was enough to make her whimper, and she had to swallow the urge to beg for him to bury himself in her.

Molly Thorne did _ not _ beg. Though if ever she was tempted…

“Fuck me.” It was a frail command, and all it got her was a smug tilt of his mandible. His fingers found her clit once more, gently squeezing and tugging, pulling her down until she was pressed against the exquisite ridges of his shaft. Molly ground into him instinctively, a low moan in her throat as a new climax began to mount, as sweet and slow as the controlled motion of her hips.

Sparks shot through Molly everywhere they touched and it still wasn’t enough. She grabbed Vinth’s free hand and guided it to the back of her head, where he fisted her hair and pulled her back.

Still not enough.

Her own hands flew to her breasts, pinching and tugging her nipples until bright flares of pain had thrills racing through her like chain lightning. 

“_Molly.” _

Avinthus’ voice was strangled to little more than a gruff whisper by the heady subvocal notes trilling deep in his throat. Molly’s eyes snapped open at the sound of her name, and she saw the same plea in him that was poised on her lips, ready to let fly. 

_ I need you, all of you. Please. _

_ Those _ were the words she could not bring herself to voice. It didn’t matter, they didn’t need to voice it - just feel it.

Without speaking a word they found an understanding, and then they came undone. Avinthus tugged her hair back harder until all Molly could see was the wash of purple light along her ceiling, then pressed his cock against her entrance. He bucked his hips up, his pace achingly slow and controlled until the moment he buried his shaft in her. 

Then he finally broke and started fucking her. Hard.

Molly’s legs stretched open just a little wider, bringing her lower so she could eagerly take him in deeper. She was wet, so unbelievably wet; her legs and the trenches between Vinth’s plates from the waist down were drenched, anointed by their salacious divinity of their joining. Sweat beaded and slid down her back as a fever took her, and her ravenous need to feel more crescendoed. She pinched her nipples and twisted them until she came again, harder this time, clenching so tight around Vinth’s cock that his whole body thrummed with a tortured groan. 

He tried to stop, probably to breathe and stretch out his endurance as best he could, but Molly grabbed his face with shaking hands and yanked it back so she could look him in the eyes again.

“Just feel it,” she managed to breathe out, twisting his own sentence against him.

The words had barely left her when he grabbed her hips again and released the tight control that held him back. Molly’s fingers scrabbled for the satin patch beneath his fringe, digging her finger in until his voice jolted out of him in rasping cries. Vinth held her firmly in place and bucked into her hard, and they started blindly fucking each other. 

Thoughts blurred out of focus; their tongues found each other again, Vinth’s coiling around hers before he broke away to trace the lines of her jaw and her throat. In turn, Molly nipped and tugged at the softer hide of his neck, then bit down hard as a sinful riot racked her body until her toes curled. It didn’t relent, and she wanted to drag Vinth down into that perfect mess alongside her. 

She knew it was working when she felt his body quaking, felt his panting breaths pouring over her skin.

“Let go,” she gasped, unsure if she meant that as a plea or a command. “Fuck me, fill me. Just fucking let go and _ ruin _ me, Vinth.”

The hum of subvocals sputtered and frayed as Avinthus wrapped his arms around Molly and crushed her against his chest. He let out a hoarse groan and buried his cock deep just in time to burst his load inside of her, filling her with wave after wave of hot cum until they were both breathless and shaking.

They stayed like that, clinging to each other until they slowly came back to their senses. The sweep of cycled air had a chill bite against Molly’s sweat-slick skin, and she wriggled to press herself tighter against Vinth for his warmth. He didn’t fight it, just hummed deliciously when her movements stirred his spent cock. Soon enough it slid back within his plates, leaving Molly to whimper as he pulled out, still raw and sensitive as she was.

“Spirits, Moll,” Avinthus’ fingers wound into her hair and he nestled back into her pillows, lazily nuzzling their cheeks together in the afterglow. “That’s a filthy mouth you’ve got on you.”

Molly didn’t miss a beat; she huffed a laugh and pulled back enough to fix him with an expertly arched brow.

“You love it,” she grinned, and Avinthus ducked his head so he could ghost his mouth over the curve of her neck.

“Yeah,” he growled. “among other things.”

The rest of their night cycle continued along that vein: quick banter delivered in whispers between tender moments and rounds of devouring each other with reckless abandon. Sleep came in shallow bursts, the energy between them too charged to grant them peace. It was like Avinthus had a livewire in his chest - every time Molly brushed against him the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she was lost in him again. 

When exhaustion finally took hold and sunk its claws into them both, Molly’s morning alarm was going off. She slapped her omnitool and rolled onto her side, burying herself in Vinth’s chest until he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in tight against his keel. As her consciousness slipped into darkness, she could swear she heard those familiar voices in the quiet hum of the vents overhead.

_ There’s no going back from this_, they whispered, and Molly simply smiled.

Why should she want to?

* * *

She found her answer when they finally woke the next day, and her body screamed in protest of her decisions. Every muscle was on fire, and if the anguished humming in Vinth’s throat was anything to go by, he was feeling much the same. Probably worse, considering just how battered and ruined his poor body was. 

“You know,” he grumbled. “There’s no charm in getting old.”

“You’re not old,” Molly yawned and grabbed for his arm, pulling it over her side like a blanket and wriggling back into him. “You’re a walking game of Operation.”

“You wanna make a game of cutting me open? That’s pretty twisted.”

Molly huffed rolled her eyes so far back that it was a wonder she couldn’t see her own brain. 

“At this very moment? It’s tempting,” huffed Molly. “But no. It’s a board game on Earth, tests your dexterity. You have to pull pieces out of a game board painted to look like some poor guy named Sam without triggering a buzzer.”

“That confirms it then,” she could feel him nodding behind her, the pillows shifting with the motion. “Humans are twisted.”

He chuckled and Molly moved to kick at his foot, except his arms and legs locked around her and pinned her back against his chest. Stupid, ridiculous arms. What business did they have being so bloody muscular?

“This coming from the guy who only listened to anthems as a kid so he could focus on how to fire a gun,” she grumped. “That’s pretty twisted if you ask me.”

Molly regretted the words the moment they left her lips. Vinth tensed almost immediately, if only to stifle the worried trill he’d let slip. She wanted to twist around and look him in the eyes, maybe catch a glimpse of the strange gloom that suddenly hung over the room. 

Had she crossed a line? 

Or was it something else?

“Moll…”

_ Guilt. He sounds guilty. _

Something else, then. But what? What could have possibly chased the comfortable peace they had built together in this apartment?

The answer washed over her like the Atlantic tide, bitter and cold. _ Nova _ . That big, ugly _ thing _ that had wedged them apart in the first place. He’d spun a good few lies getting to know her, let her believe he was someone that he wasn’t. With a sigh, she drummed up a memory, a question she had asked, from what felt like another life, when he was a bumbling, adorable oaf and she was far too trusting. 

_ “You ever listen to anything that wasn’t an anthem?” _

He hadn’t answered her, not really, so she couldn’t call it a lie…but he let her believe he was just some good, sheltered turian who was sweet on a stripper. Fuck, she had been such an idiot to fall for it. 

“So what’s the truth then?”

There was no sense festering over it. Molly had already decided to move forward, so she wouldn’t keep picking at a scab that was trying to heal over.

Vinth thrummed with a questioning tone, his body still rigid and tense. Molly sighed and pulled away from him, sitting up in her bed with a blanket clutched to her chest so she could finally look him in the eye. He evaded her gaze and stared up at her plants instead.

“Stop that.” Something in her voice broke through and caught Vinth’s attention, and he looked up at her with wet eyes. The sight of it gutted her.

“Sorry, I-“

“No. Stop _ that_,” she reached out and cupped his face, brows furrowing. “Stop kicking yourself. Stop beating yourself up over something you can’t change. It’s done. You fucked up, but we’re on the other side of it now and I’m never going to hold it over you. So stop doing it to yourself. It’s going to be hard, getting to a good place. We’ve got a lot of people to tell who aren’t going to approve, so don’t make it harder. Don’t add another roadblock.”

A great, heavy sigh rushed out of Avinthus. He’d been holding his breath, then.

“You’re right.” His agreement came in the form of a rumbling purr as he nuzzled into her touch. Funny, his stupid, handsome face was so huge it made her hand look tiny. “So let me clarify, then?”

Molly encouraged his offer with a nod.

“There’s plenty of music I like,” he shrugged. “I _ was _ taught how to wield a gun early on, and before boot my whole life was school and training. My mother didn’t like us getting distracted, so she stopped us from listening too much, or doing much. She got even more severe when she discovered just how little Veri cared about the family legacy, so at boot I uh…wasn’t always a good turian. I finally had a bit of freedom and I dove into it. That’s when I started actually listening to music, partying…you name it. I never listened to anything like what was at Len’s, but that’s because I’m used to club beats. Mindless rhythm, easy to dance to.”

Huh...imagine that. Avinthus Flos, the rebel and the party kid. But more importantly…

“Dance to, huh?”

“What, Thorne, worried I’m going to come for your spotlight?”

Something caught between a purr and a chuckle rumbled in Vinth’s chest, and Molly couldn’t help the grin that split across her face.

“Big guy like you?” She teased, looking him up and down with a theatrical flare. “Nah, I’m not worried.”

“I could spin circles around you on one of those poles.”

That had her laughing in earnest. Molly doubled over, clutching her stomach as her shoulders shook and tears welled in her eyes. Avinthus watched with a mandible cocked, and she couldn’t say whether he was more pleased at reducing her to fits or getting her to drop the blanket and bare her breast. She loved the look in his eyes regardless; it was so much better than the misery that almost pulled him under just moments before.

When her laughter finally subsided, Molly grinned up at the snowy devil once more. She arched her brow artfully and leaned in close enough for their noses to touch. 

“I’d love to see you try, Snowball. Make it happen.”

When he didn’t just laugh off her challenge, Molly’s stomach flipped. Could he _ actually _dance? And on a pole, no less? There was no way, right?

“It’s a promise, Bumblebee.”

There was no way for her to know whether or not he was just committing to the joke, but she didn’t care. If it got him on a pole she was either going to be impressed or fall into the best laughing fit of her life, so either way she came out on top. 

“Hey, uh, speaking of Bumblebee…” Avinthus’ voice trailed off, the boyish confidence seeping out of him slowly but surely.

Curious, Molly coaxed him along with a questioning hum.

There was a worried trill buried in his subvocals, brief but unmistakable. Molly willed her aching legs to cooperate and stepped off the bed, sauntering over to the bathroom to grab her robe and wrap it around her waist, her eyes barely leaving Vinth. He was mulling over his words, thinking before acting on an impulse for once.

“Well, your parents are here and…well, how much do they know? About everything?”

The words were thick and awkward on his tongue, but aside from the discomfort that had him squirming beneath the sheets he seemed fine. Good. Vinth might have a lot to make up for, but that didn’t mean he had to put himself through hell to do it. 

Molly sighed, finished tying her robe, and leaned against her bathroom’s door frame. She considered her words for a moment and folded her arms over her chest.

“They know most of it,” Molly stated simply, figuring it was easier to bite the bullet. She did her best to ignore it when Avinthus winced. “I don’t keep much from them anyways, but after everything…I needed them. I needed my mom and dad, so I told them what happened. I left out the, er, graphic details, but they know we got close, and they know you lied. They’re pissed about it, but they’re good people. They’ll accept that you fucked up and expect you to do better, but they don’t hold grudges. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

She returned to the edge of the bed and sat down beside him, curling up against his chest again.

“You’re their daughter though,” Vinth sighed, draping an arm around her. “Their only daughter, and I almost got you killed.”

“Yeah.” Molly nodded. “But you’re forgetting the most important detail here.”

He chanced a glance in her direction, curiosity shining through the sombre mood that was forming black clouds around him once more. Molly grinned and nudged him with her elbow.

“You’ve already done the hardest part, Snowball,” she teased. “You won _ me _ back.”

“Huh.”

“Hm?”

“You’re right. I _ did, _ didn’t I?” Vinth puffed up with thespian pride, drawing a deep breath that heaved his chest in a very heroic pose. Or it would have been, if he wasn’t lying naked in Molly’s bed. “They’ll make at least three vids about my monumental success, one will be a musical.”

“Jesus Christ you are such a fucking dork.”

“Avinthus, actually. Flos.”

Molly didn’t say anything, didn’t even look him in the eye. She just got out of bed and stomped over to the bathroom and shut the door behind her before turning on the hot water for a shower. Vinth’s laughter followed her, booming in the tight confines of her little apartment. It was _ awful _, almost as awful as his joke.

_ I chose this_, she reminded herself. _ I chose to do this_.

Even as she groaned, almost wounded by his horrible sense of humour, Molly knew she didn’t regret that choice. She would have to explain things to her parents before they went back to Earth, convince them to understand. It wouldn’t be easy, but they _ were _ good people. They’d be able to see through Vinth’s reckless stupidity and accept him. Accept _ them_, together. They had to. 

Steam quickly filled the bathroom and Molly pulled off her robe again. She went to hang it up when a knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. 

“Room for one more in there? I could use one too.”

Molly’s eyes darted to the cramped shower and back to the door. Maybe not, but he’d be the one stooping, not her. Shrugging, she opened the door and let Vinth in. He eyed the shower skeptically, but was quickly distracted by her standing naked in front of him.

“Looks like you’re in rough shape,” he said softly, brushing the backs of his fingers over one of her many new bruises. “Sorry about that.”

Stepping into the shower, Molly looked back over her shoulder at Vinth, grinning. Blissfully hot water sluiced over her, easing the sore muscles and the aches a little, and she could tell by his wandering eyes that it was a flattering look for her.

“Don’t be sorry,” she purred and turned her back to him again, making space for him to join her in the water. “And don’t be afraid to go a little further next time, either.”

“_Spirits. _ You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not for some time, I hope.”

He chuckled and pulled her into his chest, stooping down to plant a clumsy little kiss on her lips. It was an awkward maneuver in such a cramped space, but it was so sweet that she could hardly catch her breath. 

_ Yeah Nan_, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Vinth’s. _ The company really is nice. _


End file.
